Tonight I ran the bloody hell out of my lungs...and it felt marvelous. I ran late, it was after dark, and Jen had sent me off with the usual "be careful", which received my normal response, "...but not too careful." My legs were rubber at the end of 30 minutes, with my left leg feeling extra noodle-y. When I finished and came back in the house, Jen asked how it went (I love how she cares how it went each and every time I run). I told her it was exhilarating, even though it took me 6 minutes longer to finish the route.
6 effing minutes!! On Thanksgiving Day I finished my first competitive 5 k at 24:30, fastest time ever, but lately I've been having back cramps, joint pain, and shortness of breath. What gives? I'm not quite ready to say in all seriousness that "I'm getting older", though it may be true. Fact is, I don't really care all that much what my running time is. I care about how my time is. And the quality of my time running tonight was absolutely electric. I had a five minute cool-down walk at the end--right down the middle of the dark street, under the stars that were breaking through the sky to reach down and poke my brain from a billion lightyears away. In that moment, I was the czar of the street, under the protection of those flickering legions. I was the center of the world, the eye of the night. I always want to feel that way--maximizing my little life in the middle of the road, feeling at my best for that moment, an easy target of cross-cosmos communiques.
It helped that my pulse was pumping a gallon a second, massaging my veins to a euphoric high. But mostly, I felt most 'myself'. I was there. No where else. No one else to beat. No one else to be but me.
Old man, don't ever forget that feeling you get when you've worked hard and there's nothing left to say or do. Through the breathtaking throbs, and burning sweat, and unyielding pavement...you can feel right. Rest in those moments of new birth in old time. You're where you're supposed to be.
No comments:
Post a Comment