This morning I headed out to the river trail for ten miles, hoping that my 7 am start time would help me beat the heat of this ridiculous but not all that uncommon early June heat wave. And I'm sure it did, but it was still not pleasant. I think I felt exactly 2 cool morning breezes--last week I remember thinking about the bunnies and the birds and the countless soft early morning breezes in my face making me thankful to be out there. How sweet! This morning, not so much.
There were some truly lovely parts. I startled a small box turtle crossing the trail and admired a scissor-tale fly catcher. Looking downstream at the Arkansas River from the top of the Big Dam Bridge while the morning sun is still low in the sky is beautiful. The quality of light over the river as it winds into downtown Little Rock is sort of unreal--kind of painted, glassy and faint. In the other direction, I could barely make out Pinnacle Mountain in the haze. The stretch of trail between the dam and the 430 bridge is lined with mimosa flowers and wild lillies with orange trumpets. And as always, I enjoyed the sense of community that I always get out there. But mostly it was hot, and today was a challenge.
I never felt like I got into that long-run groove, where you just go and barely think. I suspect that the heat saps that ability to let reality recede. I was hopeful that the new bridge to Two-Rivers Park would be open today, but though the bridge itself looks complete, the base of it is still a mess and blocked off. I was bummed, and turned around in the gravel to push back downstream. I ran on the wrong side of the trail for the miniscule amount of additional shade available there. I pulled the bottom part of my running tank up and tucked it in, deciding that there would be no more long runs in a tank. That extra bit of fabric is indeed too hot. I briefly considered a push to lose the bit of flab left on my belly if I'm going to be exposing it, but then realized that that's what helps keep my running belt from riding up, so to heck with it.
Crossing back over the Big Dam Bridge, after pushing up the hill to get to the top, I thought a bit about how we're always waiting for new things to get easier. When I started running, I wondered when it would get easier, when I would ever be able to go out and run 3 miles without struggling. Am I there now? I guess I could be, but what would it mean to me? It's the struggle that makes running worthwhile. It's that magical place between easy and impossible, the place of growth, that makes anything that we do meaningful. If we really let what's important to us fall into the easy category, it loses its power. I've been waiting for 12 years for my job to get easier when what I should be doing is harnessing the struggle to push myself to be a better teacher. As a mom, as a partner, as a sister--and as a runner--it's the struggle that brings new possibility and the rush of accomplishment at the end. And of course, the incentive to begin again, to push farther, to grasp optimism and opportunity and hope and strength, even when it seems out of reach.
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