This morning I got down to the river and got started on my 14 mile run at about 7:00. I had been pretty nervous about this long one because I was getting out a little late and I knew there was a definite chance of the landscape bursting into flames, as a friend put it once.
I started out listening to The Age of Innocence on my phone. I've been listening to it for my past few runs. It's a good story, really, all love and scandal and society and more scandal. I only listened to it for about the first 4 miles before the sweat made the earbuds keep falling out. I usually enjoy running without music or books as much or more than with--if I hadn't taken the sound out, I would have missed the cardinal singing insistently or the deep croak of the frogs. I even like hearing the cyclists say, "On your left!" It's something about community and the experience.
I parked at the dog park in Burns Park and ran down to the Big Dam Bridge. It was still early and there was shade, so I went down a little ways towards Murray Park. When I ran out of shade I turned around and went back.
As I passed the bridge to go on up towards Two Rivers Park, I saw dozens of birds carrying food to their nests. Mud and grass nests lined the underneath of the the ramp up to the bridge. The birds would hover alongside the bridge until they figured out which nest was theirs, then drop in with the food and then duck back out. The holes to the nests were small and round, the nests large like mud gourds. It's a fascinating sight. I looked them up when I got home and I think they are cliff swallows.
I bathed myself in every water fountain: near the Big Dam Bridge, at next to 430 and on the other side of Two Rivers. I was trying to stay on the good side of the heat, and it did work out. There was enough shade and enough of a breeze to keep things manageable.
In Two Rivers Park, I appreciated the trail surrounded by pine trees, shady and cool. I told myself to count up the things I had seen: the birds with their mud nests and babies, the young bamboo stippling the side of the trail with jointed spokes of green, the bunny hopping off into the brush, the downy fluff lining the sides of the trail from the cottonwoods, the wide open fields with hay stacks on the outskirts, the place I know the deer hang out when it's quiet. There's a portion of the river trail that is lined with mimosa trees--the trees have grown over the trail a bit and the smell is cool and sweet. There are black berries blooming here and there--I passed a little girl picking them.
During the hard parts I made myself look inward and focus on the difficulty. At one hot part towards the end I embraced the heat and ran through it. Yes I was hot and yes it was hard, but I could keep going through it, and I did. I may have looked at the garmin a dozen times to see how much farther, but I kept going. Sometimes when it's hard it helps to look around and find the beauty that can distract you, and sometimes you have to focus on the pain because running from it or away from it keeps you from growing. You always have to come back and meet the pain and face it.
I was thankful for a strong run, for being able to keep a pretty solid, steady pace and feeling good at the end.
Next week will be a challenge. I have AP training four days, Monday through Thursday, and a 37 mile week. I also have plans to see some good friends and will be celebrating one of them getting back into running. Can't wait!
Lovely...I really like how you write about the experience of running, the outward and inward journey of it.
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