Influence

William Carlos Williams had a thing for red wheelbarrows. He didn't use a lot of words, but flung it out there as a symbol of everything being tied together, interconnected, if you will. And whether a wheelbarrow, red or otherwise, a farmer, or a pot of flowers, things that Williams experienced is what made itself onto the page. Objects and direct experience influenced his writing. How could they not, eh?

I, too, have been under the influence. Of the stuff I run into on a walk, or a run, or subjects or thoughts that come up in conversation. Of music, sometimes new-to-me stuff like Langhorne Slim or Blind Pilot, other times stuff I am coming back to, like Bob Marley, Mingus, or Hendrix.

I've been heavily influenced by Mr. Williams' notion and example that poetry, or writing, for him focused on the local, what's right around you, rather than having to fly off across the (big) pond. I've been pulled by what has put itself in front of the camera lens, or in some cases, what has turned up as the image later.

I've been inspired by a poet named Frank O'Hara, whose book "Lunch Poems," has served as a guide, a call to action, and an inspiration, for the 30 Days Project I'm in the midst of. O'Hara's book was largely written on his daily lunch breaks as he walked around New York. And it fits well in a pocket, so it sometimes accompanies me on my lunch break and/or walk up town into St. Michaels. The other folks I'm reading, from Gary Snyder to Robert Hass, from C.D. Wright to Tony Hoagland, are all taking root in one way or another.

And I've been vibing on the local, the people around me. By two teachers, who make the time to write and play music and recently threw their new CD my way, which makes my mind cruise along with it, as well as kicks me in the arse to question how productive I am with my own free time. By an artist friend and several year source of pants-kicking, Rob Brownlee-Tomasso, who makes a commitment to spend time in his studio each night working on a new painting or series of paintings. By a cat who Mike Keene and I had a chance (loaded word) encounter with on the Appalachian Trail, who ended up moving to the Eastern Shore for a time, buying a sailboat from Mike, has fixed it up, and is neck-deep in his dream to spend time sailing it all over the place (currently cruising down the intercoastal to South Carolina, I believe). You can follow Woody's saga here (any blog called "The Peanut Butter Diet" is worth something!) And by other writers in the round, including another now Easton writer/blogger, whose frequent soulful posts and tip on Gary Snyder's book, "The Real Work," has opened up some new avenues, or country roads, or singletrack trails of thought.

This influence is a funny thing. It's what I encounter, it's what I read, it's who I run into, it's who I run with, it's what I do with my time, it's being present and mindful around our girls, to hear the endless creativity they employ not just daily, but minute to minute. It's all connected. And because we're all in different places and the culmination of own points influence and experiences, it's all unique. Uh-oh. The same, all connected, but all unique. Well, that sounds like a paradox to me...

Woody Sighting: Austin Marathon Report

James "Woody" Woodring (right), a thru-hiker we met on the Appalachian Trail who had St. Michaels connections, is now a marathon man.

Readers of the 4-1-Run may remember the encounter Keene and I had with Woody, the AT thru-hiker whose grandmother lives in St. Michaels. We were inspired by Woody's quest, his mentality, his humor, and his stories. We were even more surprised when he called us on his way to St. Michaels, and shared dinner with us at the Keene residence in Wittman.

Well, Woody has gone and run himself a marathon. The Austin Marathon in Texas, to be exact. He recently e-mailed a report to friends and family, which I happily pass along below. As far as we can tell, Woody did not strap on his 20-pound backpack before the race.

Austin, TX

"I awoke super early, around 4:45, stretched, ate a light breakfast of oatmeal and grapefruit, and hopped on my bike. I pedaled downtown, arriving an hour before race time. Much excitement and energy in the air! After a futile attempt to rendevous with my cousin Natalie, who also ran the full marathon, I found myself being left behind as the crowd surged forward at the start of the race. I jumped a divider fence and began the run with what I figured was my pace group.

"What a stampede it was! As we made our way south on Congress street, slowly breaking up like thawing ice floes, the street went lower and lower in until I was in kind of an elevation trough, where I could see 12,000 people in front and back of me. Amazing! I was exuberant at the beginning, emotions and endorphins running amok. I remembered what I had read about starting off too fast and burning out too quickly, so I made an effort to find my pace despite being caught in the massive flow. It was at this time that I realized I had jumped in the line far ahead of my pace group, when a pace runner ran by waving a sign that read 3 hr 30 min. Too fast! As I was aiming for a 5 hr pace, I slowed wayyyy down and before long found my happy place.

"As the sun rose, the street became littered with hats, gloves, shirts, and warm ups people shed in an attempt to cool down. Before long, the half-marathon-ers split off from our group, and the runners spaced out considerably. Some people began to converse, others grimly set their jaw and looked straight ahead. At every mile marker or so, volunteers had set up tables stacked high with cups of water and sports drinks to rehydrate runners as they pounded by, not to mention the medics who handed out bits of vaseline, of which the importance is not to be underestimated when running long distances. There were also many bands, singers, drummers, and cow-bellers along the way, setting a rhythm and boosting spirits with their energy. They played a marathon of their own. What a blessing to have so many supporters lining the roadsides to encourage us, or at times, to keep us herded in the right direction ;)

"I stuck to my plan, hitting up every hydration stop, as well as slowing to walk at least once every mile, 30 seconds on the odd miles, 1 min on the even miles, which worked superbly. I pushed myself harder than I ever have before. At the end, when the experience was most intense, I seemed to be detached, running on a cloud, albeit a painful one, and as I went down the home stretch, the noise of the crowd and announcer was like a muffled ocean in the background. All too soon, it was suddenly over. At 11:37, I crossed the finish line, making my chip time 4:33. Not bad, when my goal was simply to run and finish.

"My cousin Natalie was right behind me the whole race, though I didn't see her until after we both had finished because I couldn't hobble back up to the finish line in time to see her cross. Although it is a wonderful thing to run with someone, as opposed to alone, we each have our own race to run, our own battle to fight, and we were both very happy to share our individual experiences afterward.

"Now I must rest my body, and look forward to new goals. Luckily, my cousin Eric made that one easy on me today, and proposed the idea of the Beach to Bay Marathon in Corpus Christi in May. What can I say? I'm hooked."

Congratulations to Woody and his cousin Natalie! What a great accomplishment. We will try to boondoggle Woody into coming up to Maryland for a race. Who knows, he might turn into one of those nuts who wants to do 50 marathons in 50 states.

A Woody Sighting

Wood Frog explains the quirkiness of a a draketail workboat to our boy Woody, the AT thru-hiker, who made a detour to Bay Hundred.

Returning readers may recall that Wood Frog and I encountered a southbound Appalachian Trail thru-hiker on Crawford Path during our White Mountain adventures. Attentive returning readers may further recall that said thru-hiker, James "Woody" Woodring, had grandparents who lived in St. Michaels; had a deep-routed interest in sailing and wooden boat building; and anticipated a stop-off in Maryland.

This week, we got a call from Woody as he was making his way from Annapolis to St. Michaels. After a tour of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum (aka my place of employment), a meeting with our Boat Yard Manager Richard Scofield, a tour of Higgins Boat Yard and log canoes from Mike Keene, a sandwich from Lighty's, a tour of the Keene boat shop in Wittman, a quick boat ride aboard the draketail workboat Dora, and a feast of a dinner at the Keene residence, our pal Woody is picking back up where he left off in Harpers Ferry. He anticipates finishing the AT in December, and who knows, we might see him back in St. Michaels again after. Great to catch up and hear about his adventures in thru-hiking. If you are curious to follow along at home, you can check in at Woody's online journal.

In other news, the Baltimore Marathon is tomorrow morning, with kindly running weather in the forecast. Pierre Bernasse, Jim Richardson, Mike Keene, and I went up for the expo and packet pick-up this morning. I have no idea what tomorrow holds--hopefully something good! And to all, a good night.