Folk Thursday: Anathea

I was working on a contemplative feminist essay about why street harassment irritates me so much when I’m jogging, but before I could finish writing it, I got sidetracked listening to Judy Collins 3, and then I got “Anathea” stuck in my head, and then I started wondering whether Joan Baez ever recorded it, because it would sound cool if she did, so I Googled it, and … well, I still don’t know whether Joan Baez ever sang “Anathea,” because I sort of lost interest in the question after I stumbled across this video.

This is from a concert at Governors Island in 2009. I didn’t even know Ms. Collins still included this in her setlists. It’s a ridiculously demanding piece of music — awkward jumps and weird cadenzas and high notes all over the place — but you’d never know it from this video. She doesn’t even look like she’s working.

I wish she’d do a book or a DVD series or something on vocal technique. I’d pay stupid money to learn that kind of control.


On Big Yellow Taxis and pink running socks

“Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone?”
— Joni Mitchell

It’s been a Joni Mitchell kind of day.

Late last summer, I discovered a rather alarming symptom that seemed to be consistent with a type of injury that could end my distance-running days forever. It wasn’t the sort of thing that would interfere with anything I really needed to be doing, but it could have kept me from doing some things I wanted to be doing — chief among them, running.

I’ve been guilty of taking running for granted. I’m good at signing up for marathons and then dropping down to a shorter race at the last minute because I didn’t bother to train. I’m good at running half-marathons on nothing but muscle memory, prayer and sheer force of will. And I’m awesome at deciding it’s too hot to run, or too cold, or too late, or too early, or I’m too busy, or I’m sore, or [insert lame excuse here].

All those times I blew off a run, I assumed I wasn’t missing much. It wasn’t worth the trouble. I could do it later, when I got a hand free. Not now. Maybe tomorrow. Not today.

And then one day, apropos of nothing, I discovered that where running was concerned, tomorrow apparently had ceased to exist.

It’s hard to understand how much you love doing something until you face the possibility that you may never get to do it again.

The story of how an erstwhile Christian Scientist ended up in a doctor’s office on a bright July morning is way too long to go into here, but the upshot is that I walked into the doctor’s office fearing the worst, and I walked out of the doctor’s office an hour later and went to lunch.

A nice, low-fat, high-carb lunch.

A distance runner sort of lunch.

When I finished lunch, Ron took me to a great little mom-and-pop store, where I bought an outrageously expensive pair of socks. Screaming pink, moisture-wicking socks.

Distance runner socks.

And when I got off work this evening, I put on my new socks and went downtown and had maybe the greatest run in the history of ever, with magic light filtering through the trees above me and the river murmuring beside me and the scent of honeysuckle all around me.

Cape has a rose-themed B&B, a boutique, and several swinging hot spots. But if you swap the big yellow taxi for a pair of pink running socks, you can still see quite a bit of Paradise along the way.


Why I moved

Yeah, I know. I haven’t blogged in weeks. Cut me some slack; there are some logistics involved in moving 450 miles. Totally worth it, though.

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I had two main reasons for moving. The first was that I desperately needed to get back into journalism and simply wasn’t likely to be happy doing anything else.

The second was that I missed my niece and nephews. Living nine hours from my family was fine for a while, but every time I came home to visit the kids, it got a little harder to leave, knowing they were growing and changing so fast that they would be completely different little people the next time I saw them.

I see a lot more of them now. Last weekend, I went to visit Mom and Dad, and all three of the kids came to play. We spent a happy evening chasing fireflies through Mom’s yard.

This morning, my sister and brother-in-law brought Jamie and Ollie to see us. We went to Discovery Playhouse, which is in downtown Cape and well worth the visit, and then we had lunch at Watami, which has the big hibachi tables where the chef comes and entertains you while he cooks your food right in front of you. Jamie didn’t like his chicken, so we brought the dogs some leftovers, and then we went geocaching, took a walk along the floodwall, and had ice cream at Port Cape.

The slideshow above contains your recommended daily allowance of Vitamin Cute.