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A stream of half-connected thoughts I have while I run:

Stretched.  Ready to go.  This isn’t bad.  Breathing  controlled.  I could have gone faster.  Music pumping.  Focus on lyrics.  Focus on nothing.  Zoning out.  Letting go of stress.  Feeling healthy.  Each foot step closer to being more healthy.  Bananas give me great energy.  I love bananas.  Heart rate up.  Cardio zone.  Burning calories.  Training.  Training for what?  For myself?  For others?  Want to look good.  Other people train.  Cops joining the force need to run an 8 minute mile.  Marines and Army recruits have to run.  I wonder if I could survive that type of training.  Breathing a little more rapid but still controlled.  Sandstorm by Darude hits it’s apex after the initial lull.

Endorphin.

Feeling good.  Running with an unknown cause.  Running and not stopping until the time runs out on the treadmill.  If I can’t finish a run how can I finish law school?  Renewed energy.  Looking around at others in the gym.  We take for granted the men and women who serve our country in the armed forces.  They sacrifice so much so we can have freedom.  That’s a noble pursuit.  I think everyone owes something to their country.  Thinking about girls.  Girls from the past.  Girls I know now.  Girls “that got away.”  Girls I will meet in the future.  I want to look good.  Running is great.  My Nike sports headphones aren’t slipping like other shitty ones I’ve had.  They were a good investment.  The beat from Van Halen’s Panama starts pumping.  I know the next 3:32 minutes will fly by.  The hook begins to play and an awesome chill rushes over my body .

Endorphin.

Final part of my run.  Glance at clock.  Close to 5 minutes left.  Last 5 are sometimes the hardest.  Why not stop now?  No!  Finish.  Don’t be a pussy.  Kick up the MPH a few points.  Focus on breathing.  Do this for yourself.  Do this for law school.  Do this for Mom and Dad.  Do this for friends.  Do this for your country (what?).  3:14 left.  Look down at my Pi tattoo.  Pi never stops — why should you?  Realize this doesn’t make sense.  Slight cramp.  Have had those before and gotten through it.  I’ve also felt worse than this in my life and gotten through it.  As Nike says JUST DO IT!  Final 2 minutes.  Kick up the MPH again.  Don’t puss out!  No music or thoughts will help you at this point.  Just push yourself.  30 seconds.  On auto-pilot.  Running fast.  Near sprinting.  Legs working independent of mind.  Just moving. 3… 2… 1…

Endorphin.

It’s been nearly a year and a half in the making, but my friends and I finally got our Pi tattoos.  Chris Armenio, John Belter, Sean Teller and I went to Smokin’ Tattooz last night (11/29) in Kent and all got inked — some of us for the first time.  Noticeably wussing out and NOT getting a tattoo (even though she promised she would) was half-Asian Sarah Scroggy who nonetheless provided event planning services, and moral/emotional support.  

The tattoo appears slightly to the left of the center of my wrist, and along my watch band (so it can be hidden when it needs to be).  The entire tattoo fits within a 1 inch square.  The image on the bottom shows off 3.14 – 3 fingers up, wring finger down (point), pinky finger up for 1and the entire count of up fingers being 4.

Other important attendees during this historic event include: Mike Pavis, Lou Colorito, Katherine Dunn, Matt Coleman, Jeff Zimmerman, Caitin Ganley and Jeff Burk.  All of whom looked on as the rest of us endured.  Honestly, the needle wasn’t painful at all, and I was expecting much worse.

Why get Pi as a tattoo?  I can’t answer for anyone else, but for me I’ve wanted it for a long time.  There is beauty in mathematics, and Pi is an important number (ratio) used in calculations that define our world.  It’s infinite, never repeats itself, powerful in its simplicity and unique.  Pi is God’s number.

Additionally, the Greek letter Pi resembles neolithic Irish dolmens – or altars.  Dolmens pepper Ireland, and my dad and I saw a lot on our first visit there.  So in that way, my Pi tattoo will help remind me of those fun times.

Some of the dolmens my dad and I saw on our first Ireland trip.  Notice how similar dolmens are to the Greek letter Pi?