A few weeks ago, on Marathon Monday, April 20, I realized this would be the first year in quite some time that I didn't reread Maniac Magee. No big problem, just charge it to the Corona, only a small loss...
Right?
I must admit, it hit me hard. The part of the book that applies quite well to the current moment is Maniac's endless running, and as I approach thirty miles a week myself I think about this quite often. I remember how I'm always impressed by the way Spinelli weaves running into his story - it's one part therapy, two parts coping mechanism, and three parts snowball for his characters, and running subtly keeps the story moving just when the characters seem out of ideas. Perhaps the specific line I've thought about most is eerily close to my current mental state - running in the mornings and reading in the afternoons gave him just enough stability... I guess the details are off, but I connect to the spirit, and the value of knowing how to put one foot in front of the other, over and over and over.
The most interesting thing happened on April 21 - I realized my initial disappointment, an intense, almost grief-like moment on April 20, had given way to complete forgetfulness. As far as running themes go, this one was consistent with my recent past - losses hit me harder in my thirties, but I move on much more quickly than I did in my twenties. After all these annual rereads, it's interesting that the fallow year is when I harvest the crop - lingering is in these pages, hanging around the other side of every corner, and in habits or routines is often an admission that we are simply not yet ready, not quite strong enough, to bear the pain and move on.
