Monday, September 26, 2016

What I really miss

Re-re-re-re-re-starting my running, and I miss is how easy it used to be.

I don't miss being fast. Pace doesn't really concern me that much. My vanity misses the slight build and narrow waste. But deep down, I don't miss that stuff.

I miss being able to fall out of bed, early, and run. A brisk, refreshing 7.5 miler before work is a fabulous start to a day.

I miss runs when I wasn't consumed with thoughts about how shitty I feel, when running cleared my head of doubt and subversion, rather than fuel them.

What I miss most is being lost in the run.

Last weekend, on Sunday, was a 5K training run. I was pleased that I ran the entire 5K... no walking, no stops. Damn that sounds pathetic. Me 5 years ago would be aghast.

The course I ran was a few miles from my house. As I was driving back... hell, even as I was driving to the run, I looked at the sidewalk and remembered training runs along that very path, long morning runs during which I'd sleepwalk through a 5K, not noticing the houses or cars or anything... just covering mindlessly distance.

In those days, I would look to the horizon, to a point way off... and soon later I was at that point, without effort, with no noticeable passing of time. I was there, having previously been back there.

Then, a run was an escape to a peaceful place, not a workout, or a task.

To run that easy requires endurance, strength, aerobic fitness, and form that allow you to move smoothly, and to get lost in it, without distraction.

They are also hard earned, and easily squandered.

Sunday, I had ever brief moments of effortless running, thanks entirely to the memory, and contemplation, of easy running, and what it meant, and how I could explain it. And, how I could regain it for myself.

Again, the moments were brief, leaving more work to do, more running to do...

Good running,

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Running with the Fab 4

I'm still not sure why, but the other day, for a good 3 miles, I was running with the Beatles.

Ok, not the actual Beatles. But you knew that. Running with the actual Beatles would be pretty hard to pull off.*

But still, from the first steps of the run, I was giving myself a bit of a pep talk, out loud, quietly, in the voices of the skinny ties, black boots, mop-topped, 1965 Beatles.

Ok, again, not actually all of the Beatles. I've never been able to do George. I like to think he was running with us though, being characteristically quiet.

Why the Beatles? No clue. What's with the pep talk? Beats me.  That's never happened before. And it just kept going. We talked about pace, which side of the street would offer the most shade, and how strange it was that I was talking like the Beatles.

The run was unspectacular. But, it was fun. And fun has been missing from my running for a few months.

Running in general has been missing for a few months. And I think one of the reasons it's been missing is because it hadn't been much fun.

Maybe that's why the lads ran along with me... to entertain me a bit, to keep it light, and to remind me to have fun. And maybe to gave me something to write about, which I needed as much as a fun run.

Yeah, let's go with that, and not signs of schizophrenia. Or a brain tumor.

Good running,

*Though not completely out of the realm of possibility... if I had a time machine. To wit, check out this article about the lads running a relay race against members of the their crew while filming Help! (found looking for pictures of running Beatles).

Also, this: