—
It was Earth Day, Sunday, April 22, 2018. I was still at it, running in a 10K road race.
The Good Men Project, (GMP), has long been interested in sharing reflections by men as to what they get out of running. I didn’t think that entering this race would give me much to reflect on, but it does. Right now I am reflecting on how out of shape I am in.
The Good Men project encourages writers to reflect on what can be toxic about masculinity. I didn’t think that running in a road race on Earth Day would generate any thoughts there. Wrong again. I am huffing and puffing and wondering why I am doing nothing to commemorate Earth Day.
This is the lesson learned from writing for GMP. The Good Men Project seeks stories from all sorts of men as to what being male in the 21st century is like. As a man, I am quite used to reading the stories told about heroic men. Traditional masculinity encourages men to learn from the example of winners. I know that there would be much to learn by hearing about how the winner of this race got to be a winner. What was his training regimen like leading up to the race? What brand of shoes was he wearing? What did he tell himself when his body was telling him it was time to slow down to not give into following these thoughts? It would be interesting to read how the World’s fastest 10 k road racer would address these topics. However, GMP is interested in me sharing on what I was thinking about being a man as I ran and came into awareness that I am probably going to be the last man across the finish line today.
What will I have to say for myself spending a Sunday afternoon running for the reward of a free beer for all finishers, instead of doing something to show how much I cared for the health of the planet I run on.
I am 66 years old. I have Parkinson’s disease. I have been running in recreational road races since I was 29. I won a race once. It was quite an experience. Never mind that only 4 men entered. The last time I ran in a race was a year ago. The number of times I went running in the last year was once. Three miles on my birthday. With the Parkinson’s disease it is a little easier to get my aerobic exercise in on a stationary bicycle. I am so enjoying being outside. I am so annoyed at how muscles trained to pedal are objecting to being asked to run.
I chose to run today to show myself that I still could cover 6.2 miles. I have learned that the best way to treat my Parkinson Disease is to have my body do what it doesn’t want to, move.
The race course has several out and back sections. On the first one, I noticed that a cyclist wearing a race volunteer tee shirt was telling people that were waiting for the runners to clear the road, that an attractive young woman wearing yoga pants was the last runner.
Shortly after this woman passed me I wondered if the volunteer would be upset at the change in scenery.
I was impressed by his empathy. He apologized to me for having to repeatedly announce that now I was the last runner to motorists waiting to go about their business. I told him that I understood completely and would use the sound of his voice to remind myself that I was still conscious.
As the race goes on, I find myself more and more reliant on conversation with this friendly stranger to distract myself from the discomfort of running.
I had addressed objections that my wife had about my running at all today, by reassuring her that I would drop out at the first sign of distress and I would take a health inventory at four miles which happened to be near the bar that was providing the free beer for those registered for the race. Now, I have this strange thought that if I drop out I would be letting this volunteer down somehow. I note with satisfaction that mile 4 came and went without difficulty.
Towards the top of the steepest hill on the course, a man rushes forward to offer me a plastic bottle of water. I eagerly accept it. I tell my chaperon that it was an odd way for me to be spending Earth Day, drinking water from a plastic bottle and running under chemtrail skies. He replied that he had recently gotten back from a scuba diving trip to the Maldives in the South Pacific. He related that he was horrified to find the extent of coral reefs bleached white and was saddened by coming across a lagoon filled with plastic garbage.
The theme of this year’s Earth Day was the threat that plastic garbage possesses.
I remember the first Earth Day, April 22, 1970. I and a couple of my friends went to a local landfill and filmed solid waste being dealt with. I did the narration providing statistics on how much junk was generated in the United States on any given day. There was a sense of excitement that day. Not many people bothered to think much about where their garbage went after it went into a garbage can. The concept of recycling was new. This was before much came in a plastic container. Now plastic is piling up everywhere. Very little of it gets recycled.
There was a time when the carrying of water was restricted to earthenware or gourds or wicker baskets. I supposed before that it was cupped hands.
Pottery is often traditionally associated with women. Nearly all other technology with men. Technology usually has a positive motive directed at having Nature take care of people better with often, (always?) hidden toxic side effects.
If you want to get basic, controlling fire, plants, and making shelters using mortar all seem like good ideas. Fires out of control, plants harvested out of season and planted in the wrong place and stone shelters encouraging men to stay put, when the climatic signs that it is time to migrate are ignored, has caused all sorts of problems.
Many of man’s technological advancements have contributed to the situation of there being too many people on the Planet. This has gotten to the point where theories of the existence of secretive cabals working to greatly reduce the Earth’s population seem more likely to be true.
Now it is announced to a small crowd in front of the bar, that I am the last runner with the free beer starting to flow as soon as I finish. I pick up my pace and announce that I will do what I can to reduce the wait. The crowd responds with cheers. My escorts tells me that I have nothing to prove and should take my time. I listen.
One could argue that men invented plastics to impress women. It quickly became a popular way to preserve leftovers. Now it is popular with take out restaurant services.
I got my free beer, which came with a commutative glass. It tastes great.
As a man, I wish there was some way to stop defiling the Earth. I keep coming across technologies designed to harvest plastic garbage in the oceans, break it down with bacteria or turn it into jewelry whose sale will contribute to efforts to comb beaches for trash. I try to remember to put plastic stuff in the correct garbage can for recycling for what little good that will do. It just all seems so hopeless. I hope that awareness and sadness for what men have done to their environment count for something in the life after death.
—
What’s your take on what you just read? Comment below or write a response and submit to us your own point of view or reaction here at the red box, below, which links to our submissions portal.
◊♦◊
Sign up for our Writing Prompts email to receive writing inspiration in your inbox twice per week.
If you believe in the work we are doing here at The Good Men Project, please join us as a Premium Member, today.
All Premium Members get to view The Good Men Project with NO ADS.
A $50 annual membership gives you an all-access pass. You can be a part of every call, group, class, and community.
A $25 annual membership gives you access to one class, one Social Interest group, and our online communities.
A $12 annual membership gives you access to our Friday calls with the publisher, our online community.
Register New Account
Need more info? A complete list of benefits is here.
Photo: Getty Images