“It’s your reason to live,” she said. “Who would want to live in this much pain without something really good in your life?” Her eyes moved to me. “The pain is just sickening, to see someone going through it and not be able to fix it for them.”
Raven was nodding. “I feel the same with you.”
Miracle was 16 when she snapped her back in a waterskiing accident, so chronic pain is one thing they have in common. “Up to a certain level pain is entirely manageable,” said Miracle. “Once it gets above that level, whatever it is for you—it’s a completely different monster. I’ve been in unbearable pain for years now—well, I survived it, so somehow I bore it, but that terrible, terrible pain steals everything.” One torturous aspect of anyone’s pain, she believes, is how it eludes description. “Language fails pain,” she said, shaking her head, “that’s one of the torments. Once you run out of metaphors—it’s like steel spikes, cold fire, blablabla—there’s not much you can say to make someone understand the intensity.” Hospitals don’t help. “Our health industry has this visual analog scale of pain that you’re supposed to give a number between one and ten,” she continued, “but everyone who knows anything about experiencing pain knows what a crap system that is for communicating.”
Many nights, Raven watches Miracle cry herself to sleep, and in the morning Miracle watches Raven get out of bed—a drawn-out process where putting his pants on is torture. He kneels to brush his teeth. “You know each movement is costing him so much,” said Miracle.
Raven hates that he wears his pain on his face. “When new runners get to the lifeguard stand, they’re scared to come up to me. They think I’m unfriendly, but I just hurt. I get relief out there,” he said, nodding in the direction of the Atlantic. “When the endorphins kick in around mile three, the pain goes away. But I know it’s not as pretty as it used to be. I used to run real nice. Now I’m all hunched over. I hate it. Sometimes I can fake it for a little while, but the pain draws me down.” He doesn’t think he could be with someone that doesn’t understand the experience of chronic pain. “Our bond is the pain,” he said. “I call our relationship the painful love.”
Miracle doesn’t like that. “I don’t think that’s right,” she said. “Okay, relationships are painful. But love isn’t painful. The love is great. It’s better now than ever. It’s like love in spite of the pain. That’s what I would call it. And maybe sometimes because of the pain. But I would never call it painful love.”
I couldn’t tell if Raven understood her distinction, and Miracle sat still in silence, then smiled. “But in some ways, it’s getting so much better. More people are learning about him. He’s enjoyed that. There’s renewed hope of people hearing his music. All this good stuff is happening. Yet there’s doubt and pain and fear, every day, about an ending. When will it end? How will it end? How much more can he endure?”
“I could get a hit song,” Raven told me on a run. “That’d be a great ending to my story. I could go back to Nashville for the Country Music Awards. I’ve been working fifty years trying to be an overnight success. What do you think, White Lightning?”
I asked him how long he wanted me to wait to publish the book.
Then he proposed an alternative ending, which his friend Killer had written in a short story years ago. “I could be running during another hurricane, and a lifeguard stand could just tip over on me.” He’d be killed on the spot mid-stride. (Miracle was familiar with this idea. “Yeah, the lifeguard stand killing him,” she said. “That’s his fantasy.”) I told Raven I’d figure out an ending for the book, but in truth all books about living people end on a question mark.
* * *
EVERY DAY THAT I LIVED in Miami Beach, I knew where I could find a friend. Probably multiple friends. Through Raven, I’ve met doctors and lawyers, homeless people and millionaires, judges and prisoners. I’ve learned a people’s history of the city that I’d found so foreign. I met two best friends, Yellow Rose, the photographer from Dallas, and Juris Prudence, the attorney from Belgium. We were all born within two months of each other and act like sisters. If I’m running on Miami Beach, I’m pretty much guaranteed to see people I know from the Raven Run community. I shout out to them by name—Gringo! Taxman! Hitter! Butcher! Sleazebuster! Hurricane! Poutine! Teen Idol! Shoe! And they respond with equal enthusiasm, fist bumps, and cheers of “Hey, looking strong, White Lightning!”
I run into people like All-American and Deep Dish (who, after losing forty pounds, started going by the name Thin Crust) when I’m out on dates on Lincoln Road. Once, I ran into Giggler at Publix when I was sick. “You might not want to hug me,” I told him. “I have the flu.” Giggler laughed and said, “Eh, I’ll take my chances.” He wrapped me in his arms. “If that’s how you look when you have the flu,” he said, letting me go, “more people should consider getting it.”
At banquets and parties, I sit next to people like Hurricane, who ran with Raven two days after his 80th birthday. (He couldn’t run on his 80th birthday because he went skydiving that day.) Once, he came to a dinner with his best friend, Marvin, who told me, “Our morning routine is we wake up and read the paper. If our names aren’t in the obituary, we get out of bed and have breakfast.” Hurricane always told me stories about the old Miami Beach, in the fifties and sixties with Frank Sinatra and Milton Berle, and his trips to the casinos in Havana. He remembers when the Fontainebleau opened in 1954, the same year he graduated from the University of Miami. “You couldn’t get in to the Fontainebleau lobby without a dress shirt, jacket and tie,” he told me, pausing. “Well you also needed pants.”
Where else in Miami Beach could I be seated next to Hurricane and Marvin?
Society today is giving us fewer spaces to talk to people that are different from us. You can hold a world in your hand through your smartphone, so there’s little pressure to engage with someone next to you. Why do so many people have interesting conversations on planes? Because that is one of the few venues left where we are in a contained space with strangers without access to all the friends we already have.
Over eight miles, Raven wants different people to connect, and he has extremely high expectations for me, and for everyone, to be different. He’s protective of my inner quirk. He brings it out. He stokes it. It’s like he sees an ember inside, and he hones in on it, cupping his hands over his mouth to blow until it catches flame and burns bright for other people to see. That’s how people connect on the Raven Run—to that ember within, more than the package outside. And it feels good when people connect to the ember.
When I left Miami in December 2015, I was sad to leave my friends and the ocean, but only one thing made me cry. Running a partial, before I peeled off to run north, home to my apartment on 29th Street and Collins Avenue, Raven said to the group, “White Lightning’s gonna be leaving us for a bit, but she’ll be back soon, don’t worry.” Raven extended his fist for a bump, and I met his hand with mine. “She’s not moonshine,” he said, beginning my roll call, “She’s White Lightning!”
It was a gusty night, so I could blame my tears on the wind, but they started falling before I said good-bye. “Keep in touch, White Lightning,” he told me. “You’ve got my number.”
“305-532-RAVE,” I said.
“531,” he corrected me, repeating mine by heart. “I’m going to miss you, White Lightning,” he said. “We’re all going to miss you.”
Raven’s gift to me has been the community more than the exercise. “He is a master weaver of tapestries of diverse people,” said Miracle, “not only culturally or ethnically, but his gift is in finding chemistry between people,” and often these people would find no other venue to run next to each other. Raven’s legacy, she believes, is the interconnection of those who have run in and out of his life. “He is like Braque, creating a four-dimensional Cubist painting—each person a cube, over time and space.”
Since Raven was a child, when he had to spend those nights alone, hugging his pillow like a friend, waiting for his mom to return from t
he graveyard shift, Raven has spent his life battling a fear of abandonment. Now, if he is more than twenty minutes late to the run, someone—if not many people—will notice and come looking for him. “I’ve found the place where I shine,” said Raven. “Everybody has a place where they shine.”
Recently, Raven went out to eat with Shoe Guy, and the restaurant owner approached the table to greet them. He had been in Raven’s tenth-grade class at Beach High, and Raven recalled he was a popular kid on the school yearbook staff. “Do you remember what I got for our class superlative?” asked Raven.
“I think it was Most Likely to Commit a Murder,” said the man.
“I thought it was Most Likely to End up in Prison,” said Raven.
“No, it was for murder,” he said. “But now that I know you—nah.”
The man didn’t offer an apology, but Raven didn’t need one.
Raven, now, knows who he is. But he is humble about what he’s done. When I asked him what he considered to be his greatest asset, he struggled. He said, “I’m just a two-trick pony. I run and I write songs. Other than that, I can’t do anything.” Then he clarified, “I’m not even that good of a runner anymore. I’m just consistent.” Finally, to conclude the question that clearly made him uncomfortable he said, “Well, White Lightning, I’m nice to people I like.”
When it comes down to it, Raven wants the spotlight on characters like Placard Man or the Man of Many Rings more than himself. I think often he is surprised to be holding a microphone, and he wants to use it to give voice to people that society is forgetting about. In writing this book, I have gotten to know the man better than perhaps I would’ve liked, because when you learn everything about a person, the flaws can unpolish the assets. But more than anything, Raven is a person I’m grateful to call a friend. If he says he will do something, I know I can count on him. How many people in your life can you say that about?
When he stops running, Miami Beach will feel different. Nobody is going to pick up his reins, because they’re way too heavy. Maybe we’ll get together on his birthday or on New Year’s, but it won’t be the same. “Raven’s spirit will still be running in the sand long after he stops the streak,” remarked the Giggler over eight miles one day, adding, “but his spirit was running here before he started because what Raven does can’t be of the body.”
The book ends where it started, with a question of who is Raven? Who is this man that runs eight miles every day, no matter what, and takes a world of individuals with him?
Raven is a rare bird that I hope you’ll find at the 5th Street lifeguard stand in Miami Beach at 5:30 p.m., any day, every day. No weather hotline, no confirmation number. If he can make it out the door, he’ll be there. He hopes you will be, too.
APPENDIX
RAVEN RUNNERS LIST
(Hall of Fame Runners denoted with ***)
NICKNAME RUNS HOMETOWN
1975—1984
Coyote 2 New York, NY
Phoenix 2 Minnesota
Spider Man 3 Puerto Rico
Yul 1 Springfield, MA
Natural Man 3 New York, NY
Zero 6 New Jersey
1985—1994
Springman*** 735 Miami, FL
Parrot 1 New York, NY
Firelady 1 Miami, FL
Testosterone Kid 22 Tallahassee, FL
KO Killer 20 Washington, DC
Barnacle 168 Cuba
Reverend*** 705 Baltimore, MD
Solo Man 3 South Africa
Termite 79 Miami Beach, FL
Linguist 22 Canada
Lennon Glasses 1 Virginia
Vulcan Pilot*** 285 Tucson, AZ
Pale Runner 3 New York, NY
Budget Man 12 Anderson, IN
Gentle 1 Tallahassee, FL
Graphics Man 5 San Francisco, CA
Barefoot 5 Finland
Baseball Player 1 Cuba
Walk Man 3 Los Angeles, CA
Crabby Fries 1 Miami, FL
Warden*** 667 Honduras
Giggler 27 Detroit, MI
Renaissance Man 20 Chicago, IL
Papa 9 Cuba
Corvette Man*** 221 Spain
Stalker 10 New York, NY
Pounder 1 UK
Iberia Man 3 Spain
Scarf Man 21 Chicago, IL
River 1 Miami Beach, FL
Ring Man 2 Dominican Republic
Butt Man 2 Florida
Photographer 1 France
Fireman 1 Chicago, IL
Potato Man 23 France
Gator Woman 1 Luxembourg
Sailor*** 966 Atlantic City, NJ
Keyhole 1 Cartersville, GA
Taxman*** 1959 New York, NY
Copilot 1 Denver, CO
Roadrunner 4 Rex, GA
Algae Man 59 West Covina, CA
Brazilian Drummer 1 Brazil
Cadaver 86 Cuba
Copy Man*** 344 Mexico
Treasurer 11 West Palm Beach, FL
Garment Man 1 India
Alien 1 Belgium
Sprinter 22 Dominican Republic
Advisor 18 Miami, FL
Speed Skater 5 Chicago, IL
Latin Cowboy 3 Chile
1995—2004
Christmas 4 Miami Beach, FL
Johnny 99 1 Alabama
Researcher 7 Puerto Rico
Question Man 39 Queens, NY
Violinist 2 Westchester, NY
Many Miles 8 Nicaragua
Fast 5 Daytona Beach, FL
Investigator 21 Miami, FL
Coach 11 Boston, MA
Journalist 9 St. Louis, MO
Duplicate 6 Santa Monica, CA
Copy Kid 13 Miami, FL
Generation X 1 Switzerland
Backward Doc 1 Des Plains, IL
Endless Summer 4 Miami Beach, FL
Flame 4 Stowe, VT
Pin Head 2 Miami, FL
Lady Law 8 Miami Beach, FL
Secret 26 Miami, FL
Rainbow Rok 3 Brooklyn, NY
Lt. Wolfman*** 233 Fort Lauderdale, FL
Tango to Go 13 Argentina
Cosmic Surfer 7 Brazil
Samurai Devil 7 Mexico
Marble Man 1 Colombia
Peaceful 7 Denver, CO
Paradox 3 Canada
Colonel 125 Belle Harbor, NY
Longboarder 18 Pacific Palisades, CA
Jungle Therapist 6 Venezuela
Dragon 1 Brazil
Burke’s Law 327 Chicago, IL
Miracle*** 302 Miami, FL
Spanky 56 Colombia
Entrepreneur 8 Venezuela
Rice Puddin’ 5 Peru
Diamond 29 Miami Beach, FL
Volcano Runner 7 Hilo, HI
Gentleman 1 St. Thomas, VI
Sportscaster 1 Ventnor, NJ
Mother Hen 1 Chicago, IL
King of the Clevelander 1 Ardmore, PA
Cargo Man 37 JFK, NY
Smiling 10 Germany
Champ 2 Puerto Rico
Mountain Lady 1 Switzerland
Gringo*** 1641 Toledo, OH
Clone 1 Los Angeles, CA
Stingray 4 Richmond, VA
Teen Idol 5 South Miami, FL
Lightning Baltz 3 Chicago, IL
Bulldog 1 Howard Beach, NY
Xena 16 Charleston, SC
Sprocket Man 2 Providence, RI
Baseball Ambassador 6 Newark, NJ
Eggplant Man 6 Miami, FL
Answer Man 4 Denville, NJ
Second Wind 3 Sweden
El Niño 6 Spain
Big Unit 32 Ohio
Hurdler 8 Merrick, NY
Chubby Chaser 3 Edinburgh
Nestle Quik 1 Manhattan, NY
12-Pack 40 Albuquerque, NM
Terminator 13 Louisville, KY
Dr. Deco 126 Miami, FL
Headlock Dreadlock 1 Boston, MA
Deliverance 11 Argentina
Abstract 1 Switzerland
Bureaucrat 17 Liberty, NY
Kick Boxer 11 Colombia
Soul Man 126 UK
Watercolor 6 Spartanburg, SC
Lady LeDuc 3 Canada
Fruit Cup 2 Brazil
Outlaw Crow 1 Houston, TX
Water Bottle Man 11 Cuba
Schwooper 2 Colombia, SC
Lumberjack 1 Kodiak, AK
Defender 5 Los Angeles, CA
Shiatsu Lady 2 France
Chapter 11*** 1089 Miami, FL
Flat Foot 32 Oshkosh, WI
Steno Girl 10 Miami, FL
No Limit 1 Laurel, MD
Body Dude 85 El Salvador
Trauma Queen 14 Fredericksburg, VA
Novocain 6 Colombia
Smokestack 3 Miami, FL
Southpaw 3 Columbus, OH
Plantain Lady 259 Ecuador
Sleeper 216 Germany
Human Compass 6 Miami, FL
Teddy Bear 6 Bulgaria
Santería 1 Santa Rosa, CA
Incentive Runner 1 Fredericksburg, VA
Beacon 53 UK
Digital Xerox 1 Mexico
El Bigote 45 Cuba
Rising Sun 18 Japan
Rumpelstiltskin 15 Germany
Michelangelo 1 Argentina
Venus Di Milo 1 Argentina
Movie Star 1 Argentina
Boomerang 7 Australia
Kiwi 2 New Zealand
Nitro 2 Korea
Fashion Man 1 Spain
Mr. Enthusiasm 4 Chicago, IL
La Niña 1 Spain
Formula 1 1 Italy
Ghost Runner 1 Lanai, HI
Silent Runner 1 Fort Collins, CO
Semper Fi 1 Wilmington, DE
Jillie Bean 1 Miami, FL
Stryper 155 Elverson, PA
Net Surfer 1 Colombia
Mr. MG 25 Mathews, NC
Sweet 7-22 12 Mexico
Angry Man*** 961 Naples, NY
Computer Guy 225 Ada, MN
Billboard Man 26 Saint Paul, MN
Shark 6 Richmond, VA
Boardwalk 3 Atlantic City, NJ
Pre-Mop 2 Mathews, NC
Count 67 Italy
Grunt 30 Cuba
Bookworm*** 346 Rochester, NY
Administrator 5 Pembroke Pines, FL
Pucker 2 Canada
Prancer 12 Spain
Bonecrusher 2 Miami, FL
Vegan 1 Norwich, VT
Hoss 2 Pacific Palisades, CA
Auditor 2 Argentina
Methodical 1 Miami, FL
Cruise Mama 1 Miami, FL
Proud 8 Naples, NY
Tangerine Dream 7 France
Running with Raven Page 20