The Run (or, a medley of unconnected thoughts that occurred to me while jogging)
Tying my shoes. It’s 102 degrees out. Maybe I’ll go five today.
It always feels better starting slow. I’ll stop at the first tower and do push ups. Remember running around the ball field in Swansea with Jack and doing push ups? Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Breath. You know what I regret though? Not being in that picture of the track team at Cass. People ask me sometimes if I was on the team why wasn’t I in the picture? I don’t remember why but for some reason I was taking the picture. I think I borrowed Dad’s camera and I remember getting a bunch of enlargements and passing them out. There’s the half mile mark, the bridge should be just around the corner now.
Then Coach Glen was telling me that he expected me to make All City next season. But I had to bring my grades up if I wanted to stay on the team. He’d talked to my English and History teachers and here he was telling me that he knew I could do better. He had confidence in me. Maybe that’s what Anais needs. I don’t know what Anais needs. Damn sweat is getting in my eyes. Stinging.
I wonder what happened to the railings on this bridge, were they blown off in the war or maybe they just were never fixed like everything else in this damn country. I run close to the edge, sort of like the fireman who smokes cigarettes. Or at least that’s how I think of it. I would have made a good fireman. I remember lying in my rack in Iwakuni when I decided that I wanted to be a fireman. I was reading Smith’s book Report from Engine Company 52, about the busiest engine company in the Bronx. ‘Had to be a city department, or what the hell was the point?
I’m sweating. Like running in Detroit with John. Running in the street because the sidewalks were all snowy and sweating even though it was about twenty nine friggin” degrees outside. I think I can sprint to the next tower… shit… shit…keep going, I wonder if Jack would like to be a fire fighter? I’ll have to ask Mom what I wanted to be when I grew up? How many times do I say I’ll have to ask Mom something and then I forget? I wonder if she would remember? A soldier, maybe? Or a sailor?
Remember those damn humps at Pendleton? “Company! Route Step, March!! Close it up, asshole to elbows, asshole to elbows. Pick up the pace Binkowski, you ain’t helpin’ some old lady across the street!” Jesus, I hated that. And remember that time they checked our packs and found out that we’d been stuffing them with crumpled up newspapers for the humps and the Gunny made us all put sand bags in our ALICE packs I thought I would die Christ our legs and backs were to stiff that night I remember being at the bar and just not wanting to move it hurt just to drink we never did that again even though the gunny never checked again I guess he didn’t have to Jesus I guess it only took the first twenty minutes of Infantry Training School before I realized I’d made a mistake… carrying that 60 mike-mike base-plate was definitely not what I wanted to be doing hell what I wanted was to be back in 12th grade drinking with my buddies what a great year that was but they were all gone now gone to college or the Air Force or me the dumb ass in the Marines
But I’ll make this work you gotta love the pain, work harder when you don’t have anything left to give running, that time at 29 Palms when we missed the helicopter pick up and those assholes from the 2nd battalion came barreling around the bend in their jeep firing blanks in their M60 and we ran and ran and ran and every time we came out there they were like shit wouldn’t they ever get tired or run out of gas or something there was nothing we could do but run. Run. The helo finally came back that night and I remember we could hardly climb aboard I actually called Lisanne after we got in hadn’t slept in over 30 hours and ran all day all fucking day and I called Lisanne but I don’t think I really had anything to say almost fell asleep on the phone I wonder when Chris is coming back he should be back next week eh? Christ I think I’ll stop now just walk a bit. There’s the motor pool maybe i can slow down a bit after the motor pool Christ I have to slow down my lungs are bursting like when you’re rounding the last curve on the quarter track just finishing up the mile and you pour it on come on Binkowski you ain’t walking some old lady acrost the street and you feel like you’re gonna vomit and you can’t breath can’t get enough oxygen… Sprint, fuck….
What does it matter, I gotta stop. Stop the anger. Stop it with Lisanne, in front of the kids. No. Just keep moving, slow, just keep moving until I catch my breath, watch out now how many are there this time? Five, six, seven gun trucks. Heading out, you can tell by the full cases of water. They’re never full when they come back…like livin’ in a war movie, sorta…Are those shots? Or range fire? They’re still shooting – I wonder if that’s where they’re going naw, probably not they wouldn’t get there in time but there’s the smoke. How weird it is to be running and watching a firefight. How weird it is just to be living here. Jesus won’t they ever let it rest four miles down just keep going don’t stop now. There’s the last tower I’ll just walk the last quarter mile it’ll be my warm down that’ll be okay, won’t it? Won’t it? Five miles. Fuck. Just breath….
It always feels better starting slow. I’ll stop at the first tower and do push ups. Remember running around the ball field in Swansea with Jack and doing push ups? Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Breath. You know what I regret though? Not being in that picture of the track team at Cass. People ask me sometimes if I was on the team why wasn’t I in the picture? I don’t remember why but for some reason I was taking the picture. I think I borrowed Dad’s camera and I remember getting a bunch of enlargements and passing them out. There’s the half mile mark, the bridge should be just around the corner now.
Then Coach Glen was telling me that he expected me to make All City next season. But I had to bring my grades up if I wanted to stay on the team. He’d talked to my English and History teachers and here he was telling me that he knew I could do better. He had confidence in me. Maybe that’s what Anais needs. I don’t know what Anais needs. Damn sweat is getting in my eyes. Stinging.
I wonder what happened to the railings on this bridge, were they blown off in the war or maybe they just were never fixed like everything else in this damn country. I run close to the edge, sort of like the fireman who smokes cigarettes. Or at least that’s how I think of it. I would have made a good fireman. I remember lying in my rack in Iwakuni when I decided that I wanted to be a fireman. I was reading Smith’s book Report from Engine Company 52, about the busiest engine company in the Bronx. ‘Had to be a city department, or what the hell was the point?
I’m sweating. Like running in Detroit with John. Running in the street because the sidewalks were all snowy and sweating even though it was about twenty nine friggin” degrees outside. I think I can sprint to the next tower… shit… shit…keep going, I wonder if Jack would like to be a fire fighter? I’ll have to ask Mom what I wanted to be when I grew up? How many times do I say I’ll have to ask Mom something and then I forget? I wonder if she would remember? A soldier, maybe? Or a sailor?
Remember those damn humps at Pendleton? “Company! Route Step, March!! Close it up, asshole to elbows, asshole to elbows. Pick up the pace Binkowski, you ain’t helpin’ some old lady across the street!” Jesus, I hated that. And remember that time they checked our packs and found out that we’d been stuffing them with crumpled up newspapers for the humps and the Gunny made us all put sand bags in our ALICE packs I thought I would die Christ our legs and backs were to stiff that night I remember being at the bar and just not wanting to move it hurt just to drink we never did that again even though the gunny never checked again I guess he didn’t have to Jesus I guess it only took the first twenty minutes of Infantry Training School before I realized I’d made a mistake… carrying that 60 mike-mike base-plate was definitely not what I wanted to be doing hell what I wanted was to be back in 12th grade drinking with my buddies what a great year that was but they were all gone now gone to college or the Air Force or me the dumb ass in the Marines
But I’ll make this work you gotta love the pain, work harder when you don’t have anything left to give running, that time at 29 Palms when we missed the helicopter pick up and those assholes from the 2nd battalion came barreling around the bend in their jeep firing blanks in their M60 and we ran and ran and ran and every time we came out there they were like shit wouldn’t they ever get tired or run out of gas or something there was nothing we could do but run. Run. The helo finally came back that night and I remember we could hardly climb aboard I actually called Lisanne after we got in hadn’t slept in over 30 hours and ran all day all fucking day and I called Lisanne but I don’t think I really had anything to say almost fell asleep on the phone I wonder when Chris is coming back he should be back next week eh? Christ I think I’ll stop now just walk a bit. There’s the motor pool maybe i can slow down a bit after the motor pool Christ I have to slow down my lungs are bursting like when you’re rounding the last curve on the quarter track just finishing up the mile and you pour it on come on Binkowski you ain’t walking some old lady acrost the street and you feel like you’re gonna vomit and you can’t breath can’t get enough oxygen… Sprint, fuck….
What does it matter, I gotta stop. Stop the anger. Stop it with Lisanne, in front of the kids. No. Just keep moving, slow, just keep moving until I catch my breath, watch out now how many are there this time? Five, six, seven gun trucks. Heading out, you can tell by the full cases of water. They’re never full when they come back…like livin’ in a war movie, sorta…Are those shots? Or range fire? They’re still shooting – I wonder if that’s where they’re going naw, probably not they wouldn’t get there in time but there’s the smoke. How weird it is to be running and watching a firefight. How weird it is just to be living here. Jesus won’t they ever let it rest four miles down just keep going don’t stop now. There’s the last tower I’ll just walk the last quarter mile it’ll be my warm down that’ll be okay, won’t it? Won’t it? Five miles. Fuck. Just breath….
posted by KAB at 11:35 AM
2 Comments:
anais needs her dad.
And her Dad needs Anais too.
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