Jenny would not call herself an athlete. She does not run
in marathons. She does not run in cheery singles groups.
Although her distances have gradually increased and her
thighs have gradually decreased, she does not run for
fitness. Jenny runs for her soul, not her body. It is the fitness
of her spirit that sets the tone of her days, changes their
timbre from strained to effortless.
“I run for perspective,” says Jenny. When the client picks
at her copy, Jenny detaches and soars above her frustration
like the great blue heron. It is not that she doesn’t care. It is
that she has a new perspective—a bird’s eye view—on the
place of her tribulations in the universe.
To keep the body in good health is a duty.... Otherwise
we shall not be able to keep our mind strong and clear.
BUDDHAEve Babitz is a novelist—and a swimmer. Tall, blond, and
as generously curved as the freeway cloverleaf of her native
Los Angeles, Babitz swims in order to direct the traffic flow
of her own overcrowded mind. “Swimming,” she says, “is a
wonderful sport for a writer.” Every day, as she swims the
aquamarine oblong of her neighborhood pool, her mind
dives deep into itself, past the weeds and clutter of its
everyday concerns—what editor is late with a check, why
the typist persists in making so many errors—and down to a