Another Way to Explore the Senses
This post gets graphic. You have been warned.
As a writer, there are a lot of activities that are necessary to explore what it’s like to exist inside a soft and squishy human body, to access the vivid sensations that come with fully appreciating all that these bodies are capable of. What I am about to describe is just one activity that my husband and I took up to keep things interesting.
There are many things couples can do to get closer, to understand each other better, to please one another. Marriage counselors, toys, books, videos, lotions, pills*, and even food can be employed in the interest of strengthening the bonds.
In this post I want to focus on one activity: the run, specifically the long run, the half marathon. I still have a certain amount of junk in my trunk, not to mention a limited amount of time in which to train. Weight is just one thing I become aware of on a run—extra pounds, weak joints, tired feet, and most often the hardest to cope with: mental baggage.
Every year my mind kicks on with the helpful suggestions to slow down, walk more and reminds me that I never finish in the time I set for myself. A know-it-all voice asks me why was I thinking this year was going to be different. An old guy I used to know always said, “The mind is a terrible thing.” Ain't that the truth at mile ten!
As with other activities; meditation, sex, gardening… moving away from my thoughts and focusing instead on the physical sensations before me works wonders. I am aware of thirst, hunger, sweat collecting beneath my clothing, and eventually—it always sneaks up on me— euphoria with all its tingling of skin, and intense thoughts bouncing off the inside of my head like pinballs. I consider my heart rate, the location and function of my intestines, my impossibly hot red face which as the day wears on becomes covered in a fine gritty salt proving that I am working near my full potential.
Besides becoming aware of what my own eventual corpse is doing, I also get to watch other people and become keenly aware of what it is like to exist in their skin. Body functions lose all associated shame on a run. Shiny yellow or dull green snot rockets hit the pavement or land farther away in the dewy grass, often narrowly missing a passing runner, spit shoots out and down so often you may be glad for a light rain just to clean the pavement beneath your feet. Guys are constantly ducking into the bushes and can be seen readjusting themselves on the return trip. Last year at a particularly open section of grass off to one side I saw several guys wizzing away and returning to the road seconds later as determined as ever. No evidence of shame on their faces. Where else would you see this outside of a toddler playdate? The mere presence of all the Porta Potties and the hundreds who wait in line is a constant reminder of how much came in and what must go out. Clean hands? Fahgettaboudit! Most of the potties are out of hand sanitizer an hour before the run starts.
Bumping into other people is so common it barely garners a reaction, though often the one you will get is friendly and open, like one woman who passed me somewhere around mile six. As she did, she ran a hand over my shoulder blades and said, “Good job, coming around!” Where else but a church service would anyone feel bold enough to do something like this? I am short and this may mean my hand comes into intimate contact with some guy’s crotch as he passes, but all is good. No problem, he signals with one open palm in the air and a genuine smile.
You see all body types on the course: men who would never be on the cover of Men’s Health, they are too hairy, too chunky or too skinny in the arms and legs, nonetheless they impress me for their yellow bibs and metallic blankets which signal that they have finished the full marathon—26.2 miles! Senior citizens with leathery flesh and wiry muscles finish strong. Large women with red faces hold hands as they cross the finish line. There are of course the expected gazelle types, all those Guevara’s and Iron Men in their tiny shorts and half shirts. All are welcome, even me.
The energy at these things is amazing. You will likely never find yourself in this thick of a crowd outside of a crisis situation. We wove and ducked and pushed our way through thousands of people just to drop off our stuff with one of forty or so UPS trucks lined up at the far end of the Seattle Center. You get a sense of how many people there are standing in line for the hundreds of porta potties, or finally when we are mashed together in our corral. All of these instances could be cause for concern or at the very least, anxiety anywhere else, not here.
People are overwhelmingly supportive of each other, polite in how they look the other way when the guy beside them pees into a bottle right before the start and they hardly ever step on me. I can’t say this about the last concert I attended. There is so much goodwill that I do what I can to soak up all this great energy for those times back in the real world when people are flipping each other off in traffic, pushing and shoving during Black Friday, or cheating each other out of anything and everything on the TV news.
The attitude and activity surrounding the run serves as a reminder of what we as humans are capable of when we are focused on something positive, in all ways; physical, spiritual and emotional. Every year I am grateful for the experience and since I want to handle sex and sensual topics in my work, running is one more way to observe every aspect of being human, not just what goes on in the bedroom.
