Took it pretty easy yesterday. We took Rider for a hike out in Harbison State Park, a beautiful old-growth pine forest. It was a welcome relief from sitting in the house worrying, and a beautiful day. The trails are well-maintained, and the terrain is really very nice.
Last night, I went out for an easy 6+M jog. I started with my earbuds in, but stowed them after a mile. I needed the silence, some space to think. It was welcome. Naturally, I focused on what is going on with my family here and in Japan. It struck me, as I trotted through the neighborhoods and past a couple of house parties, just how insignificant suffering can be, even when it is massive. The world simply does not stop when tragedy strikes. Life, such as it is, goes on. Here, on the other side of the world, especially. Yet, it isn’t without a twinge of frustration that I open Facebook and find status updates regarding some sort of mundanity, while I write notes about unaccounted-for family members. You will forgive me if I occasionally find my environs trite and meaningless while my father anxiously awaits any news from Japan. Still, I find myself less apt to become bitter in these regards; I accept it as inevitable. I accept it because I do the same. 10,000…20,000…100,000…they’re simply numbers until we find ourselves connected in some way. I guess that’s just how it is…but it does not make it any less painful for the people who are connected.
My run last night was awful. I was dehydrated, tired, stresssed. But even then, I felt lucky to be able to do it in the first place. I tried to distract myself by thinking about what’s going on and what I can do to help. I thought about that night run in Kesennuma, when I ran north along the coast until the road ended and I could go no further on a cold and snowy night. I tried to imagine what it would be like to run there now based on the pictures, but I could not imagine it at all.