TonightI ran in the rain and the dark. It poured all day and, since I didn't have my swim gear at work with me, it was either a night run, or a bike session on the rollers out in the garage. There was a time when this would have been a no-brainer and I would be happily galumphing out the door in my running shoes without giving it a second thought, but I'm not the runner I used to be. I'm not really a runner at all. I'm fatter and slower and the Indian Buffet dinner I had was still sitting heavy in my stomach at nine PM when I hit the roads in shorts and a dark colored long-sleeve T-shirt, with a white short-sleeve over it for visibility. At least I'd be warm.
It took a while to get going, to start to feel like my own breathing wasn't some alien thing trying to escape from my chest, but then it clicked. I heated up and I was off. Sometimes I remember why I used to love running so much. I let my feet get into the steady pocketa-pocketa rhythm, each step on the wet asphalt a squelch of muted speed. The scenery passed by and I began to drift.
What do you think about when you run? Silly question. What do you think about when you don't run? It's like that, but clearer; more intense. Distractions belong only to the world around you. You're isolated with your thoughts. Mostly I think about running. Sometimes I think about racing. I think about what I could have been if only. I've got this special fantasy, this "going back in time" fantasy where I get to do it all over, only this time around without the bum hip socket. Where I take myself back to on any given day depends on what I'm feeling I need to fix. Relationships? Money? Marketable skills? You name it and I've got the date for the time machine.
When I think about running though, I go back to the summer of 1992. Late summer-- August actually-- sometime in the morning. I couldn't tell you the exact date, but I can tell you it was one of our first workouts on the track for the year-- just before school started-- and that I could feel the strength of all those summer miles built up.
We had just gotten through the hard part of a Joe special workout and were doing three quick 150s to test our speed. I was coming around the turn of the second repeat, into the straight-away, with Matt O'Gara by my side. We were neck and neck, pushing for the finish line with all we had, but we weren't racing each other. We were happy to be nearly done with the workout and feeling the freedom left in the summer, proud of the strength in our long strides. We were looking forward to what the coming season would bring. We didn't talk about this, but I felt it there between us, unspoken and, while I don't know if Matt would even remember that day if I found him now, I'm as sure of this as I'm sure of anything.
The season would be a good one, though we'd lose to Walpole and narrowly miss an undefeated title. Later that fall, I'd miss cross country league all star by one place-- running down a slew of competitors to lose to a kick in the last 50 meters. I'd find that runner in indoor track and punish him weekly, far surpassing him, making sure he knew he was never in my class. Again, I'd miss all-star status, this time because of the flu. In the spring, I'd finally make league champion, but it would be bitter-sweet. The only competitors who could challenge me would decide to run the mile, instead of the deuce, so halfway through the race I'd take the lead and simply run away from the rest of the pack. I'd run my hardest, puking my guts out after the finish, but still not top my best time from the indoor season.
And then it was essentially over. I ran in college for two years and they were great years. I made the best friends of my life there and I'm forever thankful for the experience, but I was never really a competitor. I was never a match for those who simply ran away from me in the end.
I hate to be one of those washed-up ex jocks, constantly talking about the glory days and, for the most part, I'm not. I've been away from the competitive stuff for far too long, and while I miss parts of it, already most of me is aching to have this race over with so I can stop chasing those who left me in the dust long ago. I'll go back to yoga after this, and rock climbing. I'll take my bike on long, leisurely rides and, if I compete at all, it will be in the ocean, where I'm inexperienced and good and ready to get left in the tide without any second thoughts on the matter...
...and that will be that. and I won't miss it at all.
Day 13 of training:
Group rides: 3
Solo rides: 1
Resistance training: 4
Spin classes: 2
Pool Swims: 3
Maintenance Runs: 2
Ocean Swims: 1
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2 comments:
I admit, I also do this fantasy mind travel when I used to do backstrokes in the pool after practice to space out when i was a competitive swimmer.
reading the part of that post about breathing when you run, and about how you think about what you normally think about, but sharper, i just really, really want to get out of my chair right now and pull on my sneaks. but it's dark already, and i'm still half an hour from home, and it's icy. three days till the days get longer...
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