This weekends' runs were not great.
Not wanting to re-anger the knee, I opted for slow, hour-long runs through the Ho Chi Minh trails. There was no thrill of bounding up and down the pitches in the trail. No sense of accomplishment at having put in several hours of running before the first cup of coffee. No meaningful distance. No adrenaline after-glow.
Sometimes runs like these are the best reminder of why I run. Nothing so focuses the mind as having to make it, one of my profs would bellow at hesitating students (with t-rex arms gesticulating madly; if you weren't the object of torture that day, it was comical. Almost.). Crisp weather, a fresh route, or a new running skirt make for an effervescent start to almost any run (the finish? that's inversely proportional to the heat index). But it's in starting the tired, cautiously paced, uninspired run that I remember best why I run.
When I'm willing myself to get out the door, these are my tonic:
1. Coltrane on the ipod at the peak of the run
2. Padding through the roots on Ho Chi Minh
3. A little cloudburst of sprinkles during a sultry lunch run
4. Cutting through the front yard in FiveFingers
5. The last 30 seconds of Under Pressure
6. Running the bridges over 59 in Montrose during morning rush hour
7. Chuckling at Assito the burrow and his llama amigo on the tony R.O. side of the Bayou
8. Sunlight, dappled and dancing among the skinny pine trees (one of the few joys of the dreadful Memorial loop)
9. Sunlight, searing my bare shoulders after escaping the office AC
10. Sunlight, finally! After starting a run in the dark
11. Sunlight beaming through the windows of Tiny Boxwood's (bonus: motivation to tack on a little extra distance so I can enjoy their fresh bread and goat cheese; double bonus: a little extra extra effort and I can partake of the sangria)
12. That surprise moment of contentedness, when consumed in thought, you hit the perfect groove, and suddenly realize your limbs and lungs are in synchronicity, propelling you seemingly involuntarily
13. Remembering what it was to run the first mile, then the first three, then six....nine....twelve.....twenty.....thirty-one.
Posts
"with t-rex arms gesticulating madly" - hmmm, "This isn't church! We don't take things on faith here...." Ohhh, what unpleasant memories.
ReplyDeleteGee, thanks, Miles, you just aged me another 5 years with that flashback. On the upside, maybe that whole "long distance runners get speedier with age" will finally kick in.
ReplyDelete