No deep thoughts tonight about pop culture or the world at large. So I’m gonna dive into my latest project, as teased in my previous post.
I am revisiting the only teenage running log (and only written diary of any sort) I ever kept, from the fall 1987 cross-country season, just to see what it tells me now.
Around this time 25 years ago, Freshman Kurt was shaking the rust off. And I do mean shaking the rust off:
My brother and I had missed the first day of practice, on Monday the 24th, because we were moving to a new house. So the 25th was our first day lacing ’em up again. (That’s what you do with sports shoes. You lace them up. No other cliche applies.)
Looking back, I am equal parts astonished and appalled to think that I didn’t run so much as once between, I’m guessing, mid-May and late August of 1987.
I’m pretty sure I had every intention of going out for cross-country in the fall of ’87, having enjoyed it the previous year. And yet I spent the entire summer parked on my arse, eating nachos and cheese dip.
I can only wonder what I was thinking.
Meanwhile, my knees are wincing at the thought that I came out of cold storage and plowed through three miles on the first day.
When you’re old and fat like I am now, one of the quickest ways to hurt yourself is to try to come back too fast.
It’s an easy trap to fall into — and I know, having fallen into it more than once. One day early in your comeback, it’s sunny and warm, and you get in the mood, and you stretch the mile-and-a-half you’re used to into three-and-a-half. And then a day or two later, your foot is throbbing or one of your knees is locked. End of comeback.
I guess I was young and foolish and remarkably flexible 25 years ago, because I didn’t get hurt.
Or maybe I mean I didn’t get injured … because the Cross-Country Diaries indicate there was definitely some hurtin’ involved.
Coda: OK, one pop-culture note for those who tune in for such things.
The Number One hit for the week ending Aug. 29, 1987, was one I remember hearing and liking at the time, as it was a rootsy guitar-based song that stood out in an era of synthesizers and big drums.
The video runs two minutes and fifty-one seconds; I’ve always liked the last thirty seconds the best.