I'm reading this book, called the Greco-Persian Wars, and I don't think I've been so moved by a book in quite a while. I just read about the Battle of Marathon. There was nothing special about this books depiction of the battle. Fairly technical, not overly romanticized. And I've heard the story of that battle so many times before, without ever really being moved. But for some reason, reading it this time, knowing all the background, knowing the people involved, just made it so much more.

No matter how realistic you are, no matter how cynical you look at history, no one can deny the honor of that battle, the glory of it. This was a particularly moving passage for me: "The men of Marathon, the heavily-armed soliders who had saved Athens, alone and unaided except for one Plataean contingent, were all property-owning landowners or farmers." Think on that. The Athenian troops one because they were more highly trained. More skillfull than the mercenaries bought by the Persians. The FARMERS are more highly trained in battle than SOLIDERS whose sole job is to fight in wars. That's pretty sad. Honorable, but sad. Honorable because farmers were willing to fight to save their freedom. So many in Athens wanted to give over and accept Persian rule. So many other Greeks had done so already. Athens and Sparta were the only two places left that hadn't bowed down to Persian rule. Farmer's answered the call to fight. People like you and me. People who just wanted to support their family. To make sure there was food on the table. To send their kids to school. Regular people. And they risked everything, everything, to send the Persians back home. Yet how sad is it that they had to do that? That they had been trained to do that? That every man in Athens and Attica knew the art of the sword. How sad, that such things were necessary. No, this was no utopia. This was no wonderful world. This was farmers forced to fight, and not suprised by it. This was an age when warfare was an everyday thing, and the only change was who you considered your enemy. Quite a sad thing.

6400 Persians slaughtered by the Marshes. 192 Husbands and Fathers and Sons that didn't come home. 24 Mile March. Persian ships retreating.

For once, I think I got it. I think I understand.

Very few things move me this much. The creation of Narnia. The battle of Helms Deep. John Galt's speech. And now, the battle of Marathon.

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I had a werid moment last night, where it seemed like everything was done with and I didn't know what to do with myself. I usually am so busy, doing so many different things, and it seems I've forgotten how to just be. I can't remember the last time I didn't have something that needed to be done, whether it was a phone call to make, work to do, an email to send, or a book to read. Or of course, driving around on weekends seeing friends, doing something every moment. I used to spend so much time on my own, just pondering different things. And I actually liked doing that quite a lot. It seemed worthwhile in a way. And when I would be around other people, conversations were meaninful.

Somehow I feel I've lost that. I'm surround by people all the time now. I can't even count the amount of friends I have, friends closer than any I've ever had before. Yet I've forgotten how to just be me like I used to. I can't fully express what I'm trying to say, it's not one of those things that lends it to words, but it's there. And it struck me last night. I was walking around campus, looking at everyone rushing past, with purpose in their stride. Everyone off to do something, yet I couldn't help but be struck with the mundanity of it all. After all, how important is all the crap that we do on a daily basis? What's the worth? So much of it just seems like it's something we do to pass all the time. Yet it also seems there is never enough time. Who knows.

Things are different than they used to be. I rarely go down to the rocks and just relax anymore. I rarely just sit in the trees. I rarely remember how wonderous this place we live in is. Now when I hear the birds it's simply a sign I've been up too long, not a beautiful song like it used to be. I just see things differently now. And I'm not too happy about it. But I don't know how to go back to where I was. I don't even know where I am.

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Ahhh.... biking in the rain. How relaxing was that. I was hot and cold all at the same time. My mind was free to roam. My body was working. It just felt so freeing, like nothing else.

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I've starting working out recently. Slowly but surely anyway. It seems every few months I tell myself I'm gonna get back in shape, but I push myself too hard initially, and it falls apart. So I'm trying real hard not to do that this time around. I've gone out biking for the past 4 days, run once, and have done my sit ups at night for the last week. All of which I'm fairly proud of. Though none of it has pushed me too hard, it has pushed me, and consisitantly, so I think this could last. I forgot how much I love biking. Having the wind push back at you, hearing it as it goes by, getting the chills and being hot all at the same time. Seeing things you normally see so slowing swirling past you. And the rush of it all. The pain in your legs, while going up that long slowly inclining road. The rush of going down that big hill. The thrill of turning quickly down slope after slope. The pain of going back up. But such a good pain, a pain I haven't felt in so long. The pain that you knows is what you were going out there for. I'm thinking of going out again tonight; the last ride wasn't long enough for me, but Dan was ready to come back, so we did. I prefer going out alone anyway. Seeing the world rush by you, feeling that you are still and everything else is flying by. Nothing else compares to that. I'm so glad I've started riding again, god how I missed it. It's completely different than anything else. Faster than walking or running, so that things seem animate. But slower than a car, so they don't pass by so quickly that you can't take them in. Man, what a sensation.

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