Tapestry of a Run

I know that days are playing tricks. It is the first day of spring, and yet I am wearing tights and pants and three layers on top. It is not moist and daylight savings time has already come, so there are no immediate connections to winter present, except the frigid sensation of air meeting my uncovered skin. As I stretch my legs from side to side, breathing in, breathing out, I see my lingering breath joining the cool air. My nose tingles after only minutes.

The road ahead is a long distance today; I have almost reached the summit of my training. I am prepared for what is to come, but I am not necessarily looking forward to the hills that I cannot see over in my future. The road is barren, minus the scores of runners. My feet sail over the cracks in the pavements, showing the wear and age of the road on its side, nestling bits of white rock in the darkness. My body is slowly starting to warm up; only my nose and cheeks, thighs, and slivers of my stomach remain sweat free.

If spring is beginning to awaken, it is in the hidden smells and sounds that betray its intentions. The lake, no longer captured under layers of ice, releases its wild scent. Light winds carry the scent onward and it is clear miles away that water is near. The soft sounds of flocks flying is nearly hushed by the noise of the geese's chatter. These birds have been present for the entire winter, but only now do they seem relaxed. The fox we once saw gliding along the ice can no longer venture so close.

The undressed branches of the trees leave shadows I view as I travel onward. A little dance in the sunlight they make silently since the shuffle of their clothing has yet to flourish. Patches of green push up from below last season's fashions, daring the discarded to take their places in the furthest patches of the forest's closets. I think of how lucky their destined renewal is, how I long for that renewal, too. I listen to my breathing becoming louder; my lungs are tiring from constant increased activity.

Muffled music of a runner's iPod is along side of me. I am approaching a steady climb upwards. My feet are in sync with my partner's, pushing, pushing, pushing. I listen to our syncronized feet hitting the pavement, one after another, assuring myself that if I have lost my pace, I have done so in unison with another. These hills cause me to think about and feel each step ahead. My body is readying itself for the pain in my shin, my back, my mind that is sure to follow. Drops of sweat slip down my face stinging my eye, entering into my mouth. It is the saltiness of expired energy.

I have stopped to take in liquids, fully enjoying the cold waterfall flow down my throat and expunge the dryness from my mouth. All my movement has been at a slow runner's pace. Back and out, the sights repeat themselves. I have only the bridge and the flowing hills until I meet the finishing post. The sky has turned a brighter shade of light blue. The sun's rays offer a more intense warmth, even as the air remains cool and crisp to the skin. My body has become a minute generator, turned on so long as I remain in motion.

As if to counter the ever present fatigue that is translating to pain my body, my mind drifts ahead to the comfort of the leather seat in the car. Waiting for me is a sweet chocolate square that is almost making my dry tongue's buds water. There are only a few more hustled steps until I am where I need to be.


Time: 1 hr, 24 min
Place: Loch Raven/Ness Monster
Weather: High 20s
Distance: 8 miles
Feeling: 99% > 70%
Overall grade: B-