"Born to Run"

I flew to Chicago 10/8/09 to attend a dear cousin's wedding.  I saw my "Better-than-Sister" cousin Cecilia (the one I wrote about in an earlier post) and met her daughter's three-year-old daughter, Aislinn, for the first time!  I had a wonderful time and felt very satisfied to attend cousin Christopher's wedding.  He married a delightful woman, Julie, who shares his love of community theater.  Christopher's a wonderful young man and I love and admire him deeply even though we haven't spent that much time together.  

During the flight to Chicago and before falling asleep each night  while I was there, I read a newly published book, "Born to Run" by Christopher McDougall.  

I'd seen Christopher McDougall interviewed on "The Daily Show" talking about how he came to write the book and I was surprised to learn it's not about Bruce Springsteen.  As an ex-marathoner, I was not that enthused about reading the book, whose sub-title is "A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen."  Anyone who can no longer complete marathons due to health issues will understand this.  I don't want to read a book about training for marathons.  Marathons were a love-hate relationship for me but it's a heartbreak not to be able to participate in those hellish events any more.  Anyway -- it was clear Jon Stewart had read the book and he was very enthusiastic about it saying something like, "This is a book for everyone..." or something like that.  I was intrigued enough -- and I trust Jon Stewart's taste in books --  that I looked up the book on Amazon.com and added it to my wish list for a future trip to the library.  


A few weeks later, out of the blue, my friend, "E",  sent the book to me!  I thanked  "E" and told her I'd read it after I was done with Ted Kennedy's thoroughly riveting biography, "True Compass" but she insisted I read "Born to Run" right away.  So, a day later, begrudgingly (because I've come to recognize that "E" is always right so I just follow orders), I started zip-reading through the first two chapters. I wasn't impressed.  It wasn't until half-way through Chapter 3 that I finally began to understand why my friend insisted I read it right away.  A few days later, when I got on the plane for Chicago, I was about a quarter of the way through the book and feeling very resentful towards anything that kept me from reading the book. 


This book's title makes sense (especially at the end of the book) but does not do the story justice. "Born to Run" appeals to athletes, runners, marathoners and ultra-marathoners -- and Bruce Springsteen fans --  but this IS a book for everyone -- men, women, teens, teachers, bankers, politicians and anyone dealing with health issues -- not just runners or marathoners. It's a mystery, a quest, an adventure, history, crime, health and diet, anthropology, disease, joy, love and bliss. I plan to send this book to friends and family just because it's a GREAT read and I want everyone to be as mesmerized and amazed as I was reading this story. It's unforgettable. Towards the end of the book I began to slow my reading down because I didn't want it to end. I'm sure I'll read "Born to Run" many times.

Tehran Market

I have lived in Santa Monica for nearly 20 years and have often eschewed my car in favor of walking, biking or sometimes riding the local bus when I have a number of errands at opposite ends of the 8 square miles that is Santa Monica. I live 11 blocks from the sparklingly fun Santa Monica Pier and the placid waters it bejewels. At the end of the alley behind my bungalow is a liquor store run by a family who stocks some of the best $8/bottles of wine that taste like $25 wine. My dry cleaner is 1 block away, grocery store is 2 blocks away, library is 4 blocks away and the 3rd Street Promenade is 7 blocks away. I work from home and literally everything I need (except my family and friends) is within walking, biking or a 50 cent bus ride distance. Except for Santa Monica's dramatically changing architecture, it is almost like living in a compact European town. This is the way I've always wanted to live: in a metropolis adjacent, quiet community.

Today, during my lunch break, I walked to the library on 6th, the main post office on 5th then to Izzy's Deli on Wilshire and 15th, where I could purchase a bag of rye bread heels for $1.50. The heel is my favorite part of any loaf of bread and I consider it downright sublime if covered with a thin layer of ripe avocado topped with a thin slice of fresh tomato and a pinch of salt. THAT is heaven! On the return trip I passed a smallish store that gave my peripheral vision the impression of imported goods. I stopped, looked over my shoulder at the dark-tinted store windows then checked my watch and saw I had time to briefly explore the store. I'd intended to stop at Von's for some veggies but this new found store seemed to promise a mini-adventure. I walked through the doors and was greeted by shelves stocked with Mediterranean/Middle Eastern/Indian goodies. There were teas, condiments, baked goods, rices, flours, spices, oils, fresh produce and a deli counter.

Any vegan knows -- and I am vegan -- Middle Eastern, Indian and Mediterranean cuisine is not only tasty, it's often suitable for vegans in the yummiest of ways. I glided up and down the aisles, eyes wide and a barely contained child-like giddiness. I hardly knew where to start. One of the practical things about walking everywhere is there's a limit to how much I'm able or willing to carry. If I'm more than 3 blocks from home (as I was at that point), I will not carry more than one bag of -- anything -- so I knew I would have to limit any purchase to what would fit in the single cloth bag I carried. I proceeded to prowl for gold. I limited my treasure today to 4 Roma tomatoes that actually smell like they were just picked from the vine, 4 small fresh zucchini, a ripe avocado and a container of fresh made hummus with Galilee olives mixed in. There was still room in the bag for a small slice of marble halavah but one brief reality-check of my "wide load" rear-end easily convinced me to leave that delicacy locked in the deli case.

The man behind the counter must have noticed my face-wide smile when I walked up to pay. "You look very happy!" he said. "I am!" I answered, "How long has this market been here?" "Twenty years" he replied. It is a rather small shop with a modest, simple sign, "Teheran Market" above the doors. I'd seen the sign from across the street on many previous trips around town. When walking on the same side of the street as the store, it's easy to miss if you're not looking for it or in a hurry to somewhere else. I'm so glad I stopped. I didn't buy any teas, spices or unique items specifically from the Middle East or India, but now I know what awaits when I return! I must have missed the memo on this store. Everyone else in Santa Monica probably knows about it except me. Nevertheless, I am delighted to have found it. It's just another gem in the experience of living in Santa Monica. Today was my first visit to the store but it won't be my last.