You might think for that an self-described environmentally-minded vegan runner on a spiritual journey who prioritizes his relationship with nature wouldn’t have much use for a 60-year-old automobile, but you’d be wrong in your assumption.
Though there’s a good portion of the ‘car guy’ population that takes great pride in the burning of hydrocarbons in exchange for the adrenaline rush of driving fast in a vintage piece of steel, I would describe my relationship with my 1962 Ford Fairlane as much different than the simple exchange of bruised knuckles and gasoline for noise and speed.
For over a decade, I’ve been holding onto this car – sometimes inexplicably – through numerous living situations. It’s survived ample punishment as my only vehicle for a while, stuck with me through my divorce, and has been my primary project focus at times, and my last priority at other times. Aside from all that, during it’s 60 years on this planet, it’s been the most fuel efficient car I’ve ever owned and it’s presence on the road has kept a few cars out of the landfill. Beyond that it’s a piece of history, not only automotive history but personal history as well. Even my kid’s earliest memories are set in the back seat of this car.
I don’t know that I have any real wisdom to dispense today. Just a little tribute to a source of both comfort and frustration.
I’m rekindling an old friendship with this car that exercises my brain and my patience. You might be rolling your eyes right now, and you’re likely justified in doing so, but I have a spiritual connection to this antiquated vehicle. I’ve learned and grown with this car, and I believe I am truly a better person for having it, and for keeping it as long as I have. It’s taught me to trust my process and have confidence in my abilities, and that it’s never too late. In truth, I spent long enough not putting any effort into this car that I began to question the skills that I have developed along the way – and I’m happy to say that time is slowly passing. I can only describe this level of internal resistance as: intense. I really can’t put too fine of a point on it but it’s been the source of a lot of hesitation, possibly even anxiety. It’s hard for me to reconcile it even now but I’m genuinely happy to be making progress on this front.
I’ve designed a part from scratch that I’m having a dear friend fabricate for me. I’ve tested my design obsessively and I’ve finally just put it in the mail, sent to his address.
Now, it’s out of my hands.
Training this week has been great. The early mornings definitely differ from the hot afternoons we tend to get this time of year – the autumn set in overnight this past Monday, but I push onward. I’m seizing every moment I can outdoors right now as I know that by the time the end of October rolls around, I’ll be forced back indoors – but this moment, right now – this is where I live. I’ll have to deal with the end of October at the end of October, and I know what that’ll look like at the time.
Yesterday… Friday… I ran to work. This was my method of commuting yesterday and I did the prep work necessary. On Thursday, I brought everything I needed including my food for the day, and stowed them away for the next day. My commute is 14.5 km, or 9 miles and somehow this is as big of an accomplishment as the Edmonton half-marathon, purely due to the extra food prep and logistics of getting everything I needed for the work day delivered a day earlier. If I’m honest, I was a little under-fueled for the first half, but I inhaled a banana around the half-way point and picked up my feet on the back half.
This afternoon, I’m performing a solo set of music along-side my friend Sean Herbert, at The Black Dog Freehouse in Edmonton. There’s no cover charge – please stop by (if you’re of legal drinking age in Alberta).
The Conscious Pilgrim 