I’ll happily date myself here, but I may have finally found a perfect “Power Song” for Nike+iPod – The Georgia Satellite’s “Keep Your Hands to Yourself”.
I’m a big proponent that 12 bar blues based rock may be the perfect running music. It is, bar none, the perfect music for a non-interstate road trip, the bass drum beating in counterpoint to the seams in the tarmac, the thrum of the bass and the engine indistingushible. Plug the same music into an iPod, plug the earbuds into your aural cavities, and you’re going as long as there’s gas in the tank.
Not meaning to pour salt in wounds, but I’m going to rave about summer in New England for most of the next four months, until I transition into raving about fall in New England. Today was one of the days that makes me do it – 73 degrees at lunch, bluebird skies, gentle breeze off the ocean, and looking to drop into the 50’s tonight. The boys and I had a great time camping Sunday Night (look for a post on that this evening), I did substantial amounts of yard work on Memorial Day (felt guilty the whole time about not doing anything in particular to memorialize my brothers-in-arms forever awaiting homecoming), and was somewhat productive at work this morning.
The run was amazing. Set the iPod for a 5K, planning to run to the Buckley Bridge and back, which varies between 5K and 4 miles depending on what twists and turns I add. No wind on the way out, and the sun was strong enough to be warm but not hot. Slight breeze on the way back – kind of wished I was turning pedals, ’cause it wasn’t enough to make a difference on the bike – just enough to keep the pace down.
I hit the button and called up the Satellites as I came to the last hill – distorted guitar gets you started, a beat of bass drum, and then pained lyrics as the bass picks up. The hill gets steep, and the first chorus ends, the “wall of sound” best effort from a redneck garage band hits, and it just gets better from there.
The lyrics – “story about free milk and a cow”, “wanted her real bad and was about to give in” – straight up Baptist morality and carnal frustration torn out of my high school days. Which works well with running –
denial of immediate pleasure the shallow promise that we are able to trade of pain in the present for bliss in the future.
(Interesting note – in the opening stanza, it’s the “change in my pocket going jing-a-ling-a-ling” that “wants to call you on the telephone”, not the narrator. The great Southern trick of anthrophormization to
The music – one decible louder, one more cycle, or one more bit of color from the vocalist and the song would have immediately descended into satire. Instead, it’s burned into my psyche as one of few perfect things.
The running catch – halfway through the obligatory but not over-the-top guitar solo/bridge, there’s a perfectly timed “Oh, go, man, go!”
I finished strong, sprinting the last 400 meters with a brief stop at the guard shack to get back on base. Walked a little over a quarter mile to get back. Love it.
Now, to keep hold of the song, especially the part about “See, I wanted her real bad, and was about to give in” the next time I start thinking about picking up a snack for the road.