Just Keep Running

Once again, I am in a place where I feel like I need a little escape. Once again, I find that escape through running.

Over the last several days, I have run with one goal in mind: just keep running. I didn't want to stop because anything hurt, because I was tired, because I felt as though I couldn't breathe or because my head got the best of me. I just want to keep going. I want that feeling back, that feeling of freedom; that my body is capable of carrying me for miles, comfortably. I've left the Garmin, the iPod and the watch behind. No music, no beeping, just me. It has been good.

I feel as though I'm re-learning, almost like a new runner. It seems like I'm in a new body that hasn't run ten, sixteen or twenty-six point two miles. Things feel very foreign and uncharted. But I feel strong, both physically and mentally. The physical is attributed to my dedication to the weight gym, 2-3 times per week. The mental, I suppose, is just naturally building in time, as well. One is purposeful, the other more happenstance.

In many ways, it is good to feel as though I'm new to this sport. I find new reasons to explore and new sources of inspiration. This morning I read Lia's race report. It is one of the best and definitely most poetic race reports I've ever had the pleasure of reading. I found inspiration, humor and honesty in that report, and it will be one that stays with me for a very long time.

Lest this come across as if I'm a runner completely at peace with all around me, I give you the following story. Yesterday, while out on a quick three miles, a cyclist passed me, twice. First, coming from my right hand side, where he had no problem bumping into my arm as he squeezed through on the wide path. Why he chose to pass me in that manner, I'll never know. I was irritated, but still kept my pace and eventually just let it go.

Then, about a mile later, I'd turned on the path to head back toward my starting point. I hear pedaling behind me once again. This time, there's no "excuse me" no "on your left" just a grunt and another shove to my arm, this time on the left. Mind you, this was a very wide trail. He could have passed me without so much as leaving a breeze if he'd wanted to. But he didn't.

I, of course, was twice as appalled and twice as irritated. I tried, quickly, to think of something to say as I watched him pull ahead of me. I was struggling, I was mad, I couldn't think of anything. Then, my gaze fell to the back of his shorts, where his shirt and waistband should have met. There was a gap, it wasn't a pleasant sight.

"Hey, buddy!" I yelled, out of breath.

He turned slightly around, slowing down but not stopping. He glared at me over his shoulder as if to say "what?"

"Crack kills," I said, and turned down the opposite fork in the path and ran as fast as I could.