I. AM. A. RUNNER.

**the photo was borrowed from google images--if this is your image please let me know and I'll take it down and/or credit you. Thank you!**

Last night I went for my daily run/walk. I wasn't quite sure that I was making progress until last night. I have been trying to go out every evening--surprisingly I look forward to my jaunt all day. If I miss a day or two (this wkend it was three!)I still have gotten right back into it when my schedule goes back to normal. Usually, if I take a few days break from an activity like this, I'll just give up and keep pushing back until 'later' and of course that never comes. Alas, I am on week 3 and feeling great! I ran from my apartment (25th st) up 24th to Harris and 21st. It was the longest continuous run I've done--possibly ever!--and I wasn't out of breath and I felt SO good. Wow. What a great feeling. I think I could really become a runner. A real runner. Someone who could run a half marathons, full marathons or maybe a triathalon (that may be too ambitious)? My goal is to start training for a half marathon next year. Maybe I'll try to do the New York marathon (half) and run with a charity? It is every November. That would give me a good year to train. I never thought I'd enjoy running as much as I do. I LOVE it. Without music--just me, my legs and the air. Mmmmhmmm. It feels good to know that I can change my self. I always thought I would never be very active because I got so winded so quickly. My big excuse was that I couldn't run because of my lung damage I have from my bouts of pneumonia. Sure, it is there and definitely has affected me but I haven't ever had the motivation to get up and just go for it, and see if I could train myself. Now I feel like I can. It all goes back to that cleanse, and really proving to myself that I am the only one with the power over my well-being and decisions.

Soul food

Blue Guide to Istanbul by Lillias Bever, in Bellini in Istanbul

The blue of early morning
and diesel smoke, of pollution hovering
in the hills above the Bosphorus

the pointed shadows of the fountains,
the blue cry
of the ezan of dawn--

the blue of sea and sky, of boats crossing
and recrossing the straits,

and the blue and white uniforms of the ferrymen,
the ferries rumbling impatiently at the landing,

the blue domes of the mosques, covered
inside with Iznik tiles,

and palaces, gleaming marble
by the blue waters of the straits;

The blue of entrance tickets,
passports, the uniforms
f the tourist police,

the blue of the nazar boncuk, talismans
against the evil eye
outside shops and houses, pinned up in taxicabs,

the blue eyes of the woman
in the bakery at Kanhca
who refused to look at me,

the blue of suspicion--

Glass and marble and blue carpet
at your parents' house
on Hekimler Sitesi,

the blue
of your father's paintings
of sea and sky, the world
in perpetual motion,

the Uzbek blue
of your mother's eyes inspecting
my dress, the rings on my fingers;

the blue-silver scales of fish
at the fish market,
blue parakeets in the cages
at the bird-market,

the blue of desire--

Yogurt so white
it's almost blue,
the blue of the swimming pool
I wanted to disappear in,

the blue of foreignness--

Blue steam in Sultanahmet
from the tops of the hamams,

the blue of Byzantine mosaics,
the blue face of Christ
at Aya Sofya,

blue tears of the disappointed lovers
in the miniatures,

Mejnun crying out among the animals
in a blue wilderness--

Wildflowers
along the highway
to Erzurum, and high in the Kackar
blue butterflies
in the alpine meadows,
and higher up, tiny poisonous blue berries,
the blue of the lake
we would not reach--

the blue of possibility--

The blue of secrets,
and the small bruises
along my arm,

the blue ink of a journal
written right to left
in a fluid Arabic script
like the waves along the Bosphorus,

the blue of betrayal

In Istanbul
at the Ismail Aga Cafe,
blue shadows beneath your eyes,
the blue veins on the back of your hands
cupped around a tulip-shaped glass

of tea, smoke
from passing busses and trucks
rising, fading away into the air
of another, impossibly clear morning,

our last, though everything
around us was blue, still blue--

I can't describe exactly how this poem makes me feel; the goose bumps I have on my arms and legs tell their own story of the power these words have over me. They shout and pull at me, grasping onto my imagination and I am there--I am amidst that crowded street, that cafe and blue is devestating my every sight. I crave to hone words into a masterpiece like this. Lillias Bever, your words have clung to my very spirit.

**
My thoughts on religion have been aplenty recently. I have been soaking up books like they are the ocean and I sand--my urge is to shovel as many books in front of me as I can; to be embedded within pages discussing theology and God, the existence or lack of...this song, Laughing With, of Regina Spektor's newest album, Far, is the most recent song to stop me in my tracks. It is not only melodically beautiful and appeasing to the ear, but the words are heavy and saturated with questions and thoughts and questions.

Words

such power and sadness and greatness they have. I am deeply affected by the unrest and division that is taking place within my country specifically, but our world too. I don't know what I can do? I wish I could breathe peace unto us all. I wish that I could believe in God, in Jesus Christ. But, I don't and I don't know that I can. I think it would help me to be more at ease if I believe that there was a being to 'save' me and wash away my 'sins'. I hate the idea of sins. I think they are oppressive. It makes me feel like a bad person and while sometimes I may be, I do not believe that I was born a bad person for any reason--most especially because I am a woman. I am ignorant toward a Christian community outside of the 'conservative right-wing' and mega-church goers. It's so unfair of me to hold such stereotypes...I try to look beyond the word, the association; to try and embrace the difference and uniqueness of the individual. It's so hard. How can I be so attracted to someone with such different (moral) views than I? Am I setting myself up for a broken heart? I am finally realizing that I want to be with someone for the rest of my life--I want to celebrate 50 years with someone whom I adore, love and respect. I want that best-friend companionate relationship. Fire and passion too, but ultimately that isn't the only thing that I desire. I want someone who I want a family with; I want to share that with someone. It's so frustrating to think that that's what everyone wants, and it takes so long to find someone. Or does it? Am I closed off to the real possibility of being with someone because it scares me soo soo much? What if I am a self-fulfilling prophecy? What is I never allow myself that source of happiness and contentment because I am afraid of failure? I want love and respect, fun and passion. Why is that the hardest thing to find?