meiadeleite.com – Page 140

did they tell you…?

(this story happened about a year ago, but it took some time to process.)

it started out normal enough. a small-town half-marathon that is traditionally held on easter sunday, between 11am and 2pm — an odd schedule, but the race crosses the local train tracks, and that’s one of the few gaps in which no trains go through that stretch. it’s hot for april. not that many people running, and even less cheering. i saw the boy off with my parents, and then strolled to the nearby beach for a stretch in the sun, the first proper beach day of the season.

an hour later, we made our way back and saw the first runners arrive, panting and drenched in sweat. we clapped, we waited, we cheered and waited some more… but the boy wouldn’t show up. 10 minutes after his normal finishing time, i was starting to think maybe he’d given up. he’d had a mild cold earlier that week, and though he seemed fully recovered by sunday, perhaps he wasn’t as fit as he thought.

i saw a couple of his running friends, so i asked one of them if he’d seen paulo. and he had. “did they tell you…?“, he said expectantly. turns out, he was laying on the road not looking great, around km 15. they’d taken him into hospital and the paramedics were looking for me, actually. i think my heart skipped a beat or twenty. we made our way to the emergency room at a maddening slow pace, our advance bracketed by traffic on the N125.

the boy was fine. agitated, amnesiac, dehydrated, drenched in sweat… but fine otherwise. his heart was normal, and after a while, so was the rest of him. probably the scorching sun, playing tricks. afterwards, his GPS watch told the story of a 30-minute gap, spent wandering back and forth on the side of a country road, before being driven to the hospital.

ever since then, i’ve been thinking about death and the fragility of human beings, as one does whenever things like these happen. and i understand one can’t live on a dome or in fear of the next panic, but it changes things, a bit. you’re ever slightly more careful, more attentive… and immensely grateful for every single day.

links and ideas

now is a good time

i’ve had this xkcd comic strip on a bookmark for years, and return to it frequently for some perspective.

it’s so tempting to complain about lack of time… but how much time do we actually need? and more importantly, what things could we be optimising to create that time? think about it!

analogue wednesday #136

river crossings.

in morocco

jardin majorelle

on the last post, i mentioned this desire to collect botanical specimens and “bring all the green things” home with me, and it reminded me of the jardin majorelle, one of my favourite places in marrakesh. even crowded with tourists, i find it irresistibly beautiful.

i think part of the allure of the majorelle garden is just how unexpected it is. in the middle of a dusty ocre city, the gardens are a green oasis — like an escape hatch from the the traffic and the heat. everywhere you look, there’s complicated cacti, towering bamboo or blooming vines, twisted around and covering the pergolas that surround the buildings and fountains.

and part of it is also the fact that the whole thing is a love story, from beginning to end. french painter jacques majorelle curated this garden over a lifetime, bringing back all kinds of plants from his travels to nurture and grow here. and so over time, the gardens became an immense green collection, showcasing his love affair with botany.

after jacques died, the gardens fell in disrepair and the land ended up for sale… until yves saint laurent and pierre bergé fell in love with them too, bought them, and kept it going, even adding to it over time.

and though it’s not as peaceful today as it might have been 50 years ago, it’s still growing and flowering, a testament to all these love stories. whenever i’m standing below the swaying bamboo stalks from far away places, i feel like i’m in a pretty special place in the world.

in france

little green things

for all i talk about hiking, i guess it’s pretty obvious that i like wandering.

part of what i like is the company, the conversation that flows easily when we’re up on the hills without digital barriers to distract us. but part of it is just nature itself, the little green things that grow in all the landscapes we walk in. they’re beautiful and i can’t help but noticing them wherever we go…

this year started with a walk with friends on january 1st, and the woods in this corner of france were filled with fresh life, despite the winter slumber. i wanted to bring it all home so much, but hélas, i don’t think ryanair would be too happy about that…