Run to the sun
Last two days have been amazing weather - almost makes you wonder if spring is here early. Temp hit 7C or so yesterday, and probably up another degree today. Did a 10 mile run yesterday on tired legs. Took a good 6 miles to warm up. Today was scheduled for 20 - and waking up to gray and rain did not add to the motivation. I debated just going out in the rain, and trying to make the best of it, but, for the sake of my iPod Shuffle (who does not know how to swim), I decided to wait it out. The staring contest lasted for several hours - me watching the raindrops trickle through the leaves on the tree outside my window, the rain stopping and starting every few minutes in an attempt to lure me outside.
Finally, at 3pm, the clouds started to part. Apparently the sun was having a day-long staring contest with the rain as well, and coupled with my efforts, the clouds had met their match. The first slivers of sunbeams hit the streets seconds before I did, vaporizing the puddles in front of me as if I was someone important. Rather than a red carpet, dry pavement was unfurled in honour of the arrival of each step. Apparently, the other runners received invitations to the VIP sunshine event, as they flocked into the oncoming sunbeams in ever increasing numbers.
The run was only supposed to last 20 miles. Twice as many as yesterday. You'd think that twice the distance would come with twice the effort, especially considering the legs' ability to remember past events. That, however, is not always the case. The first few miles were average, but once I left town and hit the long stretches of highway - the miles just melted away with the last few swatches of snow. Perhaps it was the refreshing 5 degree temperature change between the tops of the hills and waterfront valleys in between, perhaps it was the fresh air, or maybe just the combination of endorphins and the thoughtless mind, but rather than doing the practical thing and turning around at the ten mile mark, I kept going. The road ahead held more hills, and the sun was close to dropping out of the sky, whether I was still on the highway or not. But I kept going, until I felt like turning around (after a while, the brain does engage, if only to prevent the tendency to migrate like a buffalo).
Upon returning to town, I hit a gnarly hill that I often use as a gauge of fitness. Its about half a mile to the top, with a deceptive flat section about halfway up. After 21 miles, I would have forgiven my legs if they had simply said no. But they didn't. We made it. Because of the elevation, each steep step literally made the evening air warmer. Got to the top just in time to catch the sunset over the city.
I'm just hoping that my legs continue to say yes, for more important events, such as getting out of bed tomorrow morning.
Finally, at 3pm, the clouds started to part. Apparently the sun was having a day-long staring contest with the rain as well, and coupled with my efforts, the clouds had met their match. The first slivers of sunbeams hit the streets seconds before I did, vaporizing the puddles in front of me as if I was someone important. Rather than a red carpet, dry pavement was unfurled in honour of the arrival of each step. Apparently, the other runners received invitations to the VIP sunshine event, as they flocked into the oncoming sunbeams in ever increasing numbers.
The run was only supposed to last 20 miles. Twice as many as yesterday. You'd think that twice the distance would come with twice the effort, especially considering the legs' ability to remember past events. That, however, is not always the case. The first few miles were average, but once I left town and hit the long stretches of highway - the miles just melted away with the last few swatches of snow. Perhaps it was the refreshing 5 degree temperature change between the tops of the hills and waterfront valleys in between, perhaps it was the fresh air, or maybe just the combination of endorphins and the thoughtless mind, but rather than doing the practical thing and turning around at the ten mile mark, I kept going. The road ahead held more hills, and the sun was close to dropping out of the sky, whether I was still on the highway or not. But I kept going, until I felt like turning around (after a while, the brain does engage, if only to prevent the tendency to migrate like a buffalo).
Upon returning to town, I hit a gnarly hill that I often use as a gauge of fitness. Its about half a mile to the top, with a deceptive flat section about halfway up. After 21 miles, I would have forgiven my legs if they had simply said no. But they didn't. We made it. Because of the elevation, each steep step literally made the evening air warmer. Got to the top just in time to catch the sunset over the city.
I'm just hoping that my legs continue to say yes, for more important events, such as getting out of bed tomorrow morning.
posted by sobe at
8:19 PM
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