Today, I went for my first long-ish training run for the 40 miler in July. Mercifully, the hot, dry spell we’ve been having for the last 6 weeks ended yesterday with rain showers practically overlapping each other and turning everything sparkly wet and green again (and yes, more humid than ever). So this morning, I decided to run from home to MacRitchie and take a road I haven’t run on before that is parallel to the congested, stinky main road heading that way. It was deliciously cool (relatively speaking…I know most people wouldn’t consider 75 degrees at 7am cool!) and I felt surprisingly strong.
On Friday I ran, or rather, slogged through my usual 7 mile loop feeling out of breath and slow the whole way. It made me realize though that this is what keeps running interesting. It’s not like you start out running and you just get better, faster and can run for longer with each additional run you do. Hah! How boring would that be (okay, it might be nice for a while…but surely we’d get bored eVENTually?!). Instead, every day is a new experience it seems…even when you’re running on the same path. One day you’ll feel like there is a Mac truck pushing against you, resisting you at every turn, making the run seem endless and almost impossible. The next day you’re invincible and your feet fly out from under you kicking the ground up and practically creating sparks in their wake. After being a runner for more than 18 years, I have come to understand that it’s a game of chance. There are, of course, the variables that you can control: diet, rest, shoes, hydration etc. but almost always, running is about letting the unknown elements, the energy, the physical, emotional, and spiritual landscape determine what kind of run it’s going to be. On Friday, I felt like I was being tested. Like I had to respond in some way to the heaviness of the run. I decided to just accept it and embrace the experience (not particularly pleasant though it was), allowing it to seep into my muscles, my cells so that they remember how to keep going, albeit slow and steady, next time it happens. Today, was different in almost every way. I was able to run 11 miles with relative ease, no breathing problems, no heaviness and instead even notice and document (I took my camera) beauty along the way. Then when I got home, I took back the reins and iced my hamstrings.
