2013年海風(fēng)華約知識(shí)梳理英語

GuidebookforOverallEnglishYumaAquaLauSummerHoliday,2013PRE-TESTOF PassageI:HarryPotterandtheSorcerer’s PassageII:AShortHistoryofNearly PassageIII:ATaleofTwo PassageIV:TheHappy PassageV:Sophie’s PassageVI:JaneEyre PassageVII:LittleRedRiding PassageVIII:Wuthering ESSENTIAL One:Who’sGoingtoLaughatMick Two:Tips ingaRunning Three:AthensinMidsummer—Running fortheFirst Four:MostofWhatIKnowAboutWritingFictionILearnedbyRunningEvery Five:EvenIfIHadaLongPonytailBack Six:NobodyPoundedtheTableAnymore,NobodyThrewTheir Seven:AutumninNew EIGHT:18TILI Nine:AtLeastHeNever Afterword:OnRoadsAllRoundthe TRANSLATIONANDRE- TextI:Flying TextII:Nothingtosellandnothingto TextIII:Justicewas TextIV:Illusionsofpastoral TextV:Thepowerofthe TextVI:NerYear TextVII:Predictingthe TextVIII:Inthepublic TextIX:Fromtheearth: TextX:Tooearlyandtoo VOCABULARY Day Day Day Day Day Day Day Day Day PRACTICAL WRITINGACADEMIC TheEconomistStyle Typesof ParallelismandSentence Typesof 錯(cuò)誤!未定義 錯(cuò)誤!未定義Pre-TestofDirections:forthispartoftheguidebook,youshouldreadthroughallofthefollowingpassagestopickuponethatissuitabletoyourcurrentEnglishlevel.For‘suitable’,Imeanthatyoucanunderstandthatpiece,maybenoteverysingleword,butatleastyoucanunderstanditswholeideayetthereshouldstillbesomeunfamiliarwordstoyouandyouareinterestedinthetopicitcovers.Onceyouhavedecided,youshouldfinishreadingthewholebookin20days.Foracompletepapercopyofthebook,youmaycontactmedirectly.Foranelectronicversion,pleasemailtoliuy PassageI:HarryPotterandtheSorcerer’sMrandMrsDursley,ofnumberfour,PrivetDrive,wereproudtosaythattheywereperfectlynormal,thankyouverymuch.Theywerethelastpeopleyou’dexpecttobeinvolvedinanythingstrangeormysterious,becausetheyjustdidn’tholdwithsuchnonsense.MrDursleywasthedirectorofafirmcalledGrunnings,whichmadedrills.Hewasabig,beefymanwithhardlyanyneck,althoughhedidhaveaverylargemustache.MrsDursleywasthinandblondeandhadnearlytwicetheusualamountofneck,whichcameinveryusefulasshespentsomuchofhertimecraningovergardenfences,spyingontheneighbours.TheDursleyshadasmallsoncalledDudleyandintheiropiniontherewasnofinerboyanywhere.TheDursleyshadeverythingtheywanted,buttheyalsohadasecret,andtheirgreatestfearwasthatsomebodywoulddiscoverit.Theydidn’tthinktheycouldbearitifanyonefoundoutaboutthePotters.MrsPotterwasMrsDursley’ssister,buttheyhadn’tmetforseveralyears;infact,MrsDursleypretendedshedidn’thaveasister,becausehersisterandhergood-for-nothinghusbandwereasunDursleyishasitwaspossibletobe.TheDursleysshudderedtothinkwhattheneighbourswouldsayifthePottersarrivedinthestreet.TheDursleysknewthatthePottershadasmallson,too,buttheyhadneverevenseenhim.ThisboywasanothergoodreasonforkeethePottersaway;theydidn’twantDudleymixingwithachildlikeWhenMrandMrsDursleywokeuponthedull,greyTuesdayourstorystarts,therewasnothingaboutthecloudyskyoutsidetosuggestthatstrangeandmysteriousthingswouldsoonbehappeningalloverthecountry.MrDursleyhummedashepickedouthismostboringtieforwork,andMrsDursleygossipedawayhappilyasshewrestledascreamingDudleyintohishighchair.Noneofthemnoticedalarge,tawnyowlflutterpastthePassageII:AShortHistoryofNearlyNOMATTERHOWhardyoutryyouwillneverbeabletograspjusthowtiny,howspatiallyunassuming,isaItisjustwaytooAprotonisaninfinitesimalpartofanatom,whichisitselfofcourseaninsubstantialthing.ProtonsaresosmallthatalittledibofinklikethedotonthisIcanholdsomethingintheregionof500,000,000,000ofthem,rathermorethanthenumberofsecondscontainedinhalfamillionyears.Soprotonsareexceedinglymicroscopic,tosaytheveryleast.Nowimagineifyoucan(andofcourseyoucan’t)shrinkingoneofthoseprotonsdowntoabillionthofitsnormalsizeintoaspacesosmallthatitwouldmakeaprotonlookenormous.Nowpackintothattiny,tinyspaceaboutanounceofmatter.Excellent.Youarereadytostartauniverse.I’massumingofcoursethatyouwishtobuildaninflationaryuniverse.Ifyou’dpreferinsteadtobuildamoreold-fashioned,standardBigBanguniverse,you’llneedadditionalmaterials.Infact,youwillneedtogatherupeverythingthereiseverylastmoteandparticleofmatterbetweenhereandtheedgeofcreationandsqueezeitintoaspotsoinfinitesimallycompactthatithasnodimensionsatall.Itisknownasasingularity.Ineithercase,getreadyforareallybigbang.Naturally,youwillwishtoretiretoasafeplacetoobservetheUnfortunay,thereisnowheretoretiretobecauseoutsidethesingularitythereisnowhere.Whentheuniversebeginstoexpand,itwon’tbespreadingouttofillalargeremptiness.Theonlyspacethatexistsisthespaceitcreatesasitgoes.Itisnaturalbutwrongtovisualizethesingularityasakindofpregnantdothanginginadark,boundlessvoid.Butthereisnospace,nodarkness.Thesingularityhasno“around”aroundit.Thereisnospaceforittooccupy,noplaceforittobe.Wecan’tevenaskhowlongithasbeenthere—whetherithasjustlaypoppedintobeing,likeagoodidea,orwhetherithasbeenthereforever,quietlyawaitingtherightmoment.Timedoesn’texist.Thereisnopastforittoemergefrom.Andso,fromnothing,ouruniverseItwasthebestoftimes,itwastheworstoftimes,itwastheageofwisdom,itwastheageoffoolishness,itwastheepochofbelief,itwastheepochofincredulity,itwastheseasonofLight,itwastheseasonofDarkness,itwasthespringofhope,itwasthewinterofdespair,wehadeverythingbeforeus,wehadnothingbeforeus,wewereallgoingdirecttoHeaven,wewereallgoingdirecttheotherway--inshort,theperiodwassofarlikethepresentperiod,thatsomeofitsnoisiestauthoritiesinsistedonitsbeingreceived,forgoodorforevil,inthesuperlativedegreeofcomparisononly.Therewereakingwithalargejawandaqueenwithaplainface,onthethroneofEngland;therewereakingwithalargejawandaqueenwithafairface,onthethroneofFrance.InbothcountriesitwasclearerthancrystaltothelordsoftheStatepreservesofloavesandfishes,thatthingsingeneralweresettledforever.ItwastheyearofOurLordonethousandsevenhundredandseventy-five.SpiritualrevelationswereconcededtoEnglandatthatfavouredperiod,asatthis.MrsSouthcotthadrecentlyattainedherfive-and-twentiethblessedbirthday,ofwhomapropheticprivateintheLifeGuardshadheraldedthesublimeappearancebyannouncingthatarrangementsweremadefortheswallowingupofLondonandWestminster.EventheCock-laneghosthadbeenlaidonlyarounddozenofyears,afterrapoutitsmessages,asthespiritsofthisveryyearlastpast(supernaturallydeficientinoriginality)rappedouttheirs.MeremessagesintheearthlyorderofeventshadlaycometotheEnglishCrownandPeople,fromacongressofBritishsubjectsinAmerica:which,strangetorelate,haveprovedmoreimportanttothehumanracethananycommunicationsyetreceivedthroughanyofthechickensoftheCock-lanebrood.HIGHabovethecity,onatallcolumn,stoodthestatueoftheHappyPrince.Hewasgildedalloverwiththinleavesoffinegold,foreyeshehadtwobrightsapphires,andalargeredrubyglowedonhissword-hilt.Hewasverymuchadmiredindeed.‘Heisasbeautifulasaweathercock,’remarkedoneoftheTownCouncillorswhowishedtogainareputationforhavingartistictastes;‘onlynotquitesouseful,’headded,fearinglestpeopleshouldthinkhimunpractical,whichhereallywasnot.‘Whycan’tyoubeliketheHappyPrince?’askedasensiblemotherofherlittleboywhowascryingforthemoon.‘TheHappyPrinceneverdreamsofcryingforanything.’‘Iamgladthereissomeoneintheworldwhoisquitehappy,’mutteredadisappointedmanashegazedatthewonderful‘Helooksjustlikeanangel,’saidtheCharityChildrenastheycameoutofthecathedralintheirbrightscarletcloaks,andtheircleanwhitepinafores.‘Howdoyouknow?’saidtheMathematicalMaster,‘youhaveneverseen‘Ah!Butwehave,inourdreams,’answeredthechildren;AndtheMathematicalMasterfrownedandlookedverysevere,forhedidnotapproveofchildrendreaming.SophieAmundsenwasonherwayhomefromschool.ShehadwalkedthefirstpartofthewaywithJoanna.Theyhadbeendiscussingrobots.Joannathoughtthehumanbrainwaslikeanadvancedcomputer.Sophiewasnotcertainsheagreed.Surelya wasmorethanapieceofhardware?Whentheygottothesupermarket,theywenttheirseparateways.SophielivedontheoutskirtsofasprawlingsuburbandhadalmosttwiceasfartogotoschoolasJoanna.Therewerenootherhouseshergarden,whichmadeitseemasifherhouselayattheendoftheworld.Thiswaswherethewoodsbegan.SheturnedthecornerintoCloverClose.Attheendoftheroadtherewasasharpbend,knownasCaptain’sPeopleseldomwentthatwayexceptontheItwasearlyMay.Insomeofthegardensthefruittreeswereencircledwithdenseclustersofdaffodils.Thebircheswerealreadyinpalegreenleaf.Itwasextraordinaryhoweverythingburstforthatthistimeofyear!Whatmadethisgreatmassofgreenvegetationcomewellingupfromthedeadearthassoonasitgotwarmandthelasttracesofsnowdisappeared?PassageVI:JaneEyreWecouldnotgoforawalkthatafternoon.Therewassuchafreezingcoldwind,andsuchheavyrain,thatweallstayedindoors.Iwasgladofit.Ineverlikedlongwalks,especiallyinwinter.Iusedtohatecominghomewhenitwasalmostdark,withice-coldfingersandtoes,feelingmiserablebecauseBessie,thenursemaid,wasalwaysscoldingme.AllthetimeIknewIwasdifferentfrommycousins,Eliza,JohnandGeorgianaReed.Theyweretallerandstrongerthanme,andtheywereThesethreeusuallyspenttheirtimecryingandquarrelling,buttodaytheyweresittingquietlyaroundtheirmotherinthesitting-room.Iwantedtojointhefamilycircle,butMrsReed,myaunt,refusedBessiehadcomplainedaboutme.‘No,I’msorry,Jane.UntilIhearfromBessie,orseeformyself,thatyouarereallytryingtobehavebetter,youcannotbetreatedasagood,happychild,likemychildren.’‘WhatdoesBessiesayIhavedone?’I‘Jane,itisnotpolitetoquestionmeinthatway.Ifyoucannotspeakpleasantly,beIcreptoutofthesitting-roomandintothesmallroomnextdoor,whereIchoseabookfullofpicturesfromthebookcase.Iclimbedontothewindow-seatanddrewthecurtains,sothatIwascompleyhidden.Isatthereforawhile.SometimesIlookedoutofthewindowatthegreyNovemberafternoon,andsawtherainpouringdownontheleaflessgarden.ButmostofthetimeIstudiedthebookandstared,fascinated,atthepictures.Lostintheworldofimagination,Iforgotmysad,lonelyexistenceforawhile,andwashappy,Iwasonlyafraidthatmysecrethiding-placemightbediscovered.Suddenlythedooroftheroomopened.JohnReedrushedPassageVII:LittleRedRidingOnceuponatimetherewasadearlittlegirlwhowaslovedbyeveryonewholookedather,butmostofallbyhergrandmother,andtherewasnothingthatshewouldnothavegiventothechild.Onceshegaveheralittlecapofredvelvet,whichsuitedhersowellthatshewouldneverwearanythingelse;soshewasalwayscalled‘LittleRed-Cap.’Onedayhermothersaidtoher:‘Come,LittleRed-Cap,hereisapieceofcakeandabottleofwine;takethemtoyourgrandmother,sheisillandweak,andtheywilldohergood.Setoutbeforeitgetshot,andwhenyouaregoing,walknicelyandquietlyanddonotrunoffthepath,oryoumayfallandbreakthebottle,andthenyourgrandmotherwillgetnothing;andwhenyougointoherroom,don’tforgettosay,“Goodmorning”,anddon'tpeepintoeverycornerbeforeyoudoit.’‘Iwilltakegreatcare,’saidLittleRed-Captohermother,andgaveherhandonThegrandmotherlivedoutinthewood,halfaleaguefromthevillage,andjustasLittleRed-Capenteredthewood,awolfmether.Red-Capdidnotknowwhatawickedcreaturehewas,andwasnotatallafraidofhim.‘Goodday,LittleRed-Cap,’saidhe.‘Thankyoukindly,wolf.’‘Witherawaysoearly,LittleRed-Cap?’‘Tomygrandmother’s.’‘Whathaveyougotinyour‘Cakeandwine;yesterdaywasbaking-day,sopoorsickgrandmotheristohavesomethinggood,tomakeher‘Wheredoesyourgrandmotherlive,LittleRed-‘Agoodquarterofaleaguefartheroninthewood;herhousestandsunderthethreelargeoak-trees,thenut-treesarejustbelow;yousurelymustknowit,’repliedLittleRed-Cap.Ihavejustreturnedfromavisittomylandlord--thesolitaryneighbourthatIshallbetroubledwith.Thisiscertainlyabeautifulcountry!InallEngland,IdonotbelievethatIcouldhavefixedonasituationsocompleyremovedfromthestirofsociety.Aperfectmisanthropist'sheaven:andMrHeathcliffandIaresuchasuitablepairtodividethedesolationbetweenus.Acapitalfellow!HelittleimaginedhowmyheartwarmedtowardshimwhenIbeheldhisblackeyeswithdrawsosuspiciouslyundertheirbrows,asIrodeup,andwhenhisfingersshelteredthemselves,withajealousresolution,stillfartherinhiswaistcoat,asIannouncedmyname.‘MrHeathcliff!’Isaid.Anodwastheanswer.‘MrLockwood,yournewtenant,sir.Idomyselfthehonourofcallingassoonaspossibleaftermyarrival,toexpressthehopethatIhavenotinconveniencedyoubymyperseveranceinsolicitingtheoccupationofThrushcrossGrange:Iheardyesterdayyouhadhadsomethoughts—‘‘ThrushcrossGrangeismyown,sir,’heinterrupted,wincing.‘Ishouldnotallowanyonetoinconvenienceme,ifIcouldhinderit--walkin!’The‘walkin’wasutteredwithclosedteeth,andexpressedthesentiment,‘Gotothedeuce’:eventhegateoverwhichheleantmanifestednosympathizingmovementtothewords;andIthinkthatcircumstancedeterminedmetoaccepttheinvitation:Ifeltinterestedinamanwhoseemedmoreexaggeratedlythanmyself.Diretions:forthispartoftheguidebook,youarerequiredtoreadthroughthebookprintedbelow,whatItalkaboutwhenItalkaboutrunning,byHarukiMurakamiandforeacharticleinthisbook,youaresuggestedtowriteanessay,whichshouldbenolessthan300words,onyourownthoughtstoit.There’sawisesayingthatgoeslikethis:Arealgentlemanneverdiscusseswomenhe’sbrokenupwithorhowmuchtaxhe’spaid.Actually,thisisatotallie.Ijustmadeitup.Sorry!Butiftherereallyweresuchasaying,Ithinkthatonemoreconditionforbeingagentlemanwouldbekeequietaboutwhatyoudotostayhealthy.Agentlemanshouldn’tgoonandonaboutwhathedoestostayfit.Atleastthat’showIseeit.Aseverybodyknows,I’mnogentleman,somaybeIshouldn’tbeworryingaboutthistobeginwith,butstill,I’mahesitantaboutwritingthisbook.Thismightcomeoffsoundinglikeadodge,butthisisabookaboutrunning,notatreatiseonhowtobehealthy.I’mnottryingheretogiveadvicelike,“Okayeverybody—let’sruneverydaytostayhealthy!”Instead,thisisabookinwhichI’vegatheredmythoughtsaboutwhatrunninghasmeanttomeasa.JustabookinwhichIpondervariousthingsandthinkoutloud.SomersetMaughamoncewrotethatineachshaveliesaphilosophy.Icouldn’tagreemore.Nomatterhowmundanesomeactionmightappear,keepatitlongenoughandit esacontemplative,evenmeditativeact.Asawriter,then,andasarunner,Idon’tfindthatwritingandpublishingabookofmyownalthoughtsaboutrunningmakesmestraytoofaroffmyusualpath.PerhapsI’mjusttoopainstakingatypeof ,butIcan’tgraspmuchofanythingwithoutputtingdownmythoughtsinwriting,soIhadtoactuallygetmyhandsworkingandwritethesewords.Otherwise,I’dneverknowwhatrunningmeanstome.Once,IwaslyingaroundahoroominParisreadingtheInternationalHeraldTribunewhenIcameacrossaspecialarticleonthemarathon.Therewereinterviewswithseveralfamousmarathonrunners,andtheywereaskedwhatspecialmantragoesthroughtheirheadtokeepthemselvespumpedduringarace.Aninterestingquestion,Ithought.Iwasimpressedbyallthedifferentthingstheserunnersthinkaboutastheyrun26.2.Itjustgoestoshowhowgruelinganeventamarathonreallyis.Ifyoudon’tkeeprepeatingamantraofsomesorttoyourself,you’llneversurvive.Onerunnertoldofamantrahisolderbrother,alsoarunner,hadtaughthimwhichhe’sponderedeversincehebeganrunning.Hereitis:Painisinevitable.Sufferingisoptional.Sayyou’rerunningandyoustarttothink,Manthishurts,Ican’ttakeitanymore.Thehurtpartisanunavoidablereality,butwhetherornotyoucanstandanymoreisuptotherunnerhimself.Thisprettymuchsumsupthemostimportantaspectofmarathonrunning.It’sbeensometenyearssinceIfirsthadtheideaofabookaboutrunning,buttheyearswentbywithmetryingoutoneapproachafteranother,neveractuallysettlingdowntowriteit.Runningissortofavaguethemetobeginwith,andIfoundithardtofigureoutexactlywhatIshouldsayaboutit.Atacertainpoint,though,IdecidedthatIshouldjustwritehonestlyaboutwhatIthinkandfeelaboutrunning,andsticktomyownstyle.Ifiguredthatwastheonlywaytogetgoing,andIstartedwritingthebook,bitbybit,inthesummerof2005,finishingitinthefallof2006.OtherthanafewplaceswhereIquotefrompreviouswritingsI’vedone,thebulkofthisbookrecordsmythoughtsandfeelingsinrealtime.OnethingInoticedwasthatwritinghonestlyaboutrunningandwritinghonestlyaboutmyselfarenearlythesamething.SoIsupposeit’sallrighttoreadthisasakindofmemoircenteredontheactofThoughIwouldn’tcallanyofthisphilosophyperse,thisbookdoescontainacertainamountofwhatmightbedubbedlifelessons.Theymightnotamounttomuch,buttheyare allessonsI’velearnedthroughactuallyputtingmyownbodyinmotion,andtherebydiscoveringthatsufferingisoptional.Theymaynotbelessonsyoucangeneralize,butthat’sbecausewhat’spresentedhereisme,thekindof Iam.One:Who’sGoingtoLaughatMickAUGUST5,2005?KAUAI,I’monKauai,inHawaii,today,Friday,August5,2005.It’sunbelievablyclearandsunny,notacloudinthesky.Asiftheconceptcloudsdoesn’tevenexist.IcamehereattheendofJulyand,asalways,werentedacondo.Duringthemornings,whenit’scool,Isitatmydesk,writingallsortsofthings.Likenow:I’mwritingthis,apieceonrunningthatIcanprettymuchcomposeasIwish.It’ssummer,sonaturallyit’shot.Hawaii’sbeencalledtheislandofeternalsummer,butsinceit’sintheNorthernHemispherethereare,arguably,fourseasonsofasort.Summerissomewhathotterthanwinter.IspendalotoftimeinCambridge,Massachusetts,andcomparedtoCambridge—somuggyandhotwithallitsbricksandconcreteit’slikeaformoftorture—summerinHawaiiisaveritableparadise.Noneedforanairconditionerhere—justleavethewindowopen,andarefreshingbreezeblowsin.PeopleinCambridgearealwayssurprisedwhentheyhearI’mspendingAugustinHawaii.“Whywouldyouwanttospendsummerinahotplacelikethat?”theyinvariablyask.Buttheydon’tknowwhatit’slike.Howtheconstanttradewindsfromthenortheastmakesummerscool.Howhappylifeishere,wherewecanenjoyloungingaround,readingabookintheshadeoftrees,or,ifthenotionstrikesus,godown,justasweare,foradipintheinlet.SinceIarrivedinHawaiiI’verunaboutanhoureveryday,sixdaysaweek.It’stwoandahalfmonthsnowsinceIresumedmyoldlifestyleinwhich,unlessit’stotallyunavoidable,Iruneverysingleday.TodayIranforanhourandtenminutes,listeningonmyWalkmantotwoalbumsbytheLovin’Spoonful—DaydreamandHumsoftheLovin’Spoonful—whichI’drecordedonanMDdisc.RightnowI’maimingatincreasingthedistanceIrun,sospeedislessofanissue.AslongasIcanrunacertaindistance,that’sallIcareabout.SometimesIrunfastwhenIfeellikeit,butifIincreasethepaceIshortentheamountoftimeIrun,thepointbeingtolettheexhilarationIfeelattheendofeachruncarryovertothenextday.ThisisthesamesortoftackIfindnecessarywhenwritinganovel.IstopeverydayrightatthepointwhereIfeelIcanwritemore.Dothat,andthenextday’sworkgoessurprisinglysmoothly.IthinkErnestHemingwaydidsomethinglikethat.Tokeepongoing,youhavetokeepuptherhythm.Thisistheimportantthingforlong-termprojects.Onceyousetthepace,therestwillfollow.Theproblemisgettingtheflywheeltospinatasetspeed—andtogettothatpointtakesasmuchconcentrationandeffortasyoucanmanage.ItrainedforashorttimewhileIwasrunning,butitwasacoolingrainthatfeltgood.Athickcloudblewinfromtheoceanrightoverme,andagentlerainfellforawhile,butthen,asifithadremembered,“Oh,I’vegottodosomeerrands!,”itwhiskeditselfawaywithoutsomuchasaglanceback.Andthenthemercilesssunwasback,scorchingtheground.It’saveryeasy-to-understandweatherpattern.Nothingabstruseorambivalentaboutit,notaspeckofthemetaphoricorthesymbolic.OnthewayIpassedafewotherjoggers,aboutanequalnumberofmenandwomen.Theenergeticoneswerezipdowntheroad,slicingthroughtheairliketheyhadrobbersattheirheels.Others,overweight,huffedandpuffed,theireyeshalfclosed,theirshouldersslumpedlikethiswasthelastthingintheworldtheywantedtobeng.Theylookedlikemaybeaweekagotheirdoctorshadtoldthemtheyhavediabetesandwarnedthemtheyhadtostartexercising.I’msomewhereintheIlovelisteningtotheLovin’Spoonful.Theirmusicissortoflaid-backandneverpretentious.Listeningtothissoothingmusicbringsbackalotofmemoriesofthe1960s.Nothingreallyspecial,though.Iftheyweretomakeamovieaboutmylife(justthethoughtofwhichscaresme),thesewouldbethescenesthey’dleaveonthecutting-roomfloor.“Wecanleavethisepisodeout,”theeditorwouldexplain.“It’snotbad,butit’ssortofordinaryanddoesn’tamounttomuch.”Thosekindsofmemories—unpretentious,commonplace.Butforme,they’reallmeaningfulandvaluable.Aseachofthesememoriesflitsacrossmymind,I’msureIunconsciouslys,orgiveaslightfrown.Commonplacetheymightbe,buttheaccumulationofthesememorieshasledtooneresult:me.Mehereandnow,onthenorthshoreofKauai.SometimeswhenIthinkoflife,Ifeellikeapieceofdriftwoodwasheduponshore.AsIrun,thetradewindsblowinginfromthedirectionofthelighthouserustletheleavesoftheeucalyptusovermyIbeganlivinginCambridge,Massachusetts,attheendofMayofthisyear,andrunninghasonceagainbeenthemainstayofmydailyroutineeversince.I’mseriouslyrunningnow.ByseriouslyImeanthirty-sixaweek.Inotherwords,sixaday,sixdaysaweek.ItwouldbebetterifIransevendays,butIhavetofactorinrainydays,anddayswhenworkkeepsmetoobusy.Therearesomedays,too,whenfranklyIjustfeeltootiredtorun.Takingallthisintoaccount,Ileaveonedayaweekasadayoff.So,atthirty-sixperweek,Icover156everymonth,whichformeismystandardforseriousInJuneIfollowedthisplanexactly,running156 onthenose.InJulyIincreasedthedistanceandcovered186.Iaveragedsix everyday,withouttakingasingledayoff.Idon’tmeanIcoveredpreciselysix everyday.IfIran oneday,thenextdayI’ddoonlythree.(AtajoggingpaceIgenerallycancoversix inanhour.)Formethisismostdefiniyrunningataseriouslevel.AndsinceIcametoHawaiiI’vekeptupthispace.IthadbeenfartoolongsinceI’dbeenabletorunthesedistancesandkeepupthiskindoffixedschedule.Thereareseveralreasonswhy,atacertainpointinmylife,Istoppedrunningseriously.Firstofall,mylifehasbeengettingbusier,andfreetimeisincreasinglyatapremium.WhenIwasyoungeritwasn’tasifIhadasmuchfreetimeasIwanted,butatleastIdidn’thaveasmanymiscellaneouschoresasIdonow.Idon’tknowwhy,buttheolderyouget,thebusieryoue.AnotherreasonisthatI’vegottenmoreinterestedintriathlons,ratherthanmarathons.Triathlons,ofcourse,involveswimmingandcyclinginadditiontorunning.Therunningpartisn’taproblemforme,butinordertomastertheothertwolegsoftheeventIhadtodevoteagreatdealoftimetotraininginswimmingandbiking.Ihadtostartoverfromscratchwithswimming,relearningthecorrectform,learningtherightbikingtechniques,andtrainingthenecessarymuscles.Allofthistooktimeandeffort,andasaresultIhadlesstimetodevotetorunning.Probablythemainreason,though,wasthatatacertainpointI’dsimplygrowntiredofit.Istartedrunninginthefallof1982andhavebeenrunningsincethenfornearlytwenty-threeyears.OverthisperiodI’vejoggedalmosteveryday,runinatleastonemarathoneveryyear—twenty-threeuptillnow—andparticipatedinmorelong-distanceracesallaroundtheworldthanIcaretocount.Long-distancerunningsuitsmy ality,though,andofallthehabitsI’veacquiredovermylifetimeI’dhavetosaythisonehasbeenthemosthelpful,themostmeaningful.Runningwithoutabreakformorethantwodecadeshasalsomademestronger,bothphysicallyandemotionally.Thethingis,I’mnotmuchforteamsports.That’sjustthewayIam.WheneverIplaysoccerorbaseball—actually,sinceinganadultthisishardlyever—Ineverfeelcomfortable.Maybeit’sbecauseIdon’thaveanybrothers,butIcouldnevergetintothekindofgamesyouplaywithothers.I’malsonotverygoodatone-on-onesportsliketennis.Ienjoysquash,butgenerallywhenitcomestoagameagainstsomeone,thecompetitiveaspectmakesme fortable.Andwhenitcomestomartialarts,too,youcancountmeout.Don’tmisunderstandme—I’mnottotally petitive.It’sjustthatforsomereasonInevercaredallthatmuchwhetherIbeatothersorlosttothem.ThissentimentremainedprettymuchunchangedafterIgrewup.Itdoesn’tmatterwhatfieldyou’retalkingabout—beatingsomebodyelsejustdoesn’tdoitforme.I’mmuchmoreinterestedinwhetherIreachthegoalsthatIsetformyself,sointhissenselong-distancerunningistheperfectfitfora