Exercising Futility

I am standing on the southwest corner of 48th and 6th waiting for the light to change. Across on the northwest corner I see a young female jogger-type running in place among the crowd of suits and tourists waiting to continue her run when the signal glows green. It does, and as we pass each other I notice that in her right hand she has one of those Dunkin Donuts frozen beverage-type drinks. You know, the ones that contain roughly, oh, I’d say about a million and a half calories. She slurped it as she ran by and I wondered if she even knew that unless she was running all the way to the end of Manhattan Island and back she was never going to break even on the caloric burn vs. intake for tonight’s run. She was, essentially, running in place.

I see that kind of thing all the time in my neighborhood.

A few weeks ago I had just crossed the street at that very same corner when I heard the sound of chanting young voices coming from the opposite direction. It sounded like they were yelling “wet al abate”

“Wet al abate”? Was this some kind of code or something?

Their feet ching ching chinged over the sidewalk grates as they drew closer. They were bearing signs. The chant became fully audible.

“Let Ralph Debate!”

It was a group of Nader supporters. Amazing. Like a rare bird they hadn’t been seen in these parts in years. And there weren’t many of them, to be honest. They sort of spread themselves over a whole block as they headed south down 6th avenue to make it look like it was a bigger group of marchers than it really was. They likely didn’t total more than a dozen in the whole march line.

I tried to see their faces as they passed to perhaps glean what they were really thinking. Some had smiles on their faces; the smile of someone who knows they’re wasting their breath and tilting at the proverbial windmill and yet doesn’t care. I envy those people. They’re able to build a sense of purpose in their lives out of complete abstraction. What they have is something that can’t be rationally measured. It is a pure sense of belief. Of course there are those who say that believers are what is destroying humanity, but then again aren’t we all programmed to want to die for some kind of cause? Isn’t that the hallmark of humanity’s entire existence on this planet? Are those of us who wander around aimlessly not believing in anything really living fuller, happier lives than the blind believers? Is it better to accept the irrational and be happy or to constantly try to make sense of the insensible and be miserable?

This isn't to assail the joggers or the Nader supporters in particular but rather every single one of us. We all cling to some foolish notion or other, it's only the notion itself that varies from person to person. It seems to me that a certain amount of self-delusion is necessary to remain sane. We all have to pretend at something to get by. The key is, as Kurt Vonnegut once wrote “We must be careful about what we pretend to be”. Mother Night. Great book. You should be reading that now instead of this dime store philosophical drivel.

And when you need to take a break, grab yourself a double caramel mocha half caf frozen latte and go for a jog. Why not? If you run in place while giving yourself the illusion of movement long enough you will eventually believe that you're moving.

Enjoy the fall weekend fellow joggers. Don't spill your drinks!