Pounding Through

On some runs, even though I have yet to find my 'runner's cadence' where I just slip into the thrills of propelling my body forward on my strong, rhythmic legs, the distance is no longer foreboding. I can run three or four miles and still feel relatively solid afterward, even if there were sizable hills or we pushed the pace faster than I thought I could go. On some days, I am inspired by those with whom I am running--Stephanie daring me to never let up, the steady footprints of a runner behind me closing in, a story told by a friendly runner in a training group. They cause the miles to hasten by.

Today I was on my own on a course I never traveled fully. I ran down a large hill to start and over rolling hills to a trail. I hit the trail, which was really muddy and slippery from the morning's rain, for about two miles taking me to a lonely park hidden away. I took a break to get photographic evidence that I made it there (note the picture), and returned on the same route back.

The whole adventure was really hard.

From the first mile to the last, I felt sluggish. My legs were tired; my breathing was heavy; my mind was tripping over whatever lay ahead--the distance, the condition of the course, my slow running pace. As the miles wore on, each time my left leg pounded the dirty path, my shin screamed. The screams started quietly, but as expected their volume increased. They never were debilitating, just nagging enough so that my mind never was able to forget that the function my legs were doing is work... and, today, it was difficult work.

Eight weeks ago, I may have had a different tale to write, one based in taking the easy way out. If today's run was satisfying, it was only because I did it out of my own initiative and desire to stick to a training program that will help me finish my race.


Time: 1 hr, 7 min (33:40 for the 5K)
Place: Dog Park Trails
Weather: 52
Distance: 6 miles
Feeling: Good for the shins/Bad for the shoes
Overall grade: C+