today's mileage: 3.5 miles
mid-week totals: 8 miles
on the iPod: "fix you" -- coldplay
I don't necessarily always do well with change. This is something that I know about myself. It's not that I can't handle different things, but rather I need time to digest the new idea or plan. I want to assess the situation and make certain that it's not a threat. I know that this need of mine is rooted in fear, and suspect that it's a throw-back to experiences in childhood and adolescence. And I'd be willing to bet that i'm not the only guy like me who has the same feelings. Growing up, particularly in my late teens and early 20's, I didn't know what new situations might bring or what new people might think. I learned quickly to stick with a routine and keep close to people I could trust. But still today, doing new things, going new places, or meeting new people scares the hell out of me. I don't know if that will ever change.
But this isn't a sob story or an effort to wallow in pity. Quite the opposite. The good news is that I know how to handle my anxiety over change and make it work out for the better. And it almost always does. (And the other good news is that I am so much more comfortable in my own skin than I was back then.) So when Mrs. Murie emailed mid-week to suggest that we take a different route for our 15 miler this weekend, I panicked. Why would we want to run a different route? Why change it up when we know the Skull Creek trail like the back of our hands? Instantly, not unlike growing up in Southeast Arkansas, I felt threatened by this new possibility. It seems silly that something so minuscule and simple would scare me, but it did. That's the truth.
My gut reaction was to email back and make an argument for our standard route, but I recognized my shortcoming and decided to simply respond vaguely, focusing not on where we would run but on the fact that I was looking forward to the mileage. This allowed for time to think about it and get comfortable. It may sound passive-agressive, but it's what I needed to do in the moment. And sure enough, as the weekend neared, I became more and more agreeable with the idea of new paths, new experiences. So on Saturday morning, under partly cloudy skies and a markedly drop in temperature from previous weekends, we set out from Starbucks, heading toward the Botanical Gardens instead of downtown Fayetteville. I'm so happy that we did.
Running in the low 60's as opposed to the low 80's makes everything sooo much easier. For the first time in probably a month, I wasn't wringing sweat out of my shirt within the first three miles. Mrs. Murie and I found a relatively swift pace and settled in for the distance. We hashed the week's events at our respective high schools (I still dearly miss teaching with her at BHS), considered various weekend plans, but mostly we dialogued about the Chicago Marathon, which seems to be approaching faster each day. We both agreed how great it will be to have Mrs. Pugh there with us, along with a few friends from California and Georgia on the sidelines cheering. The entire weekend is going to be a party, with 26.2 miles mixed in for kicks and giggles.
But soon enough, while running on a sizeable uphill stretch, my good friend surged forward, leaving me to my iPod and thoughts and my own pace. Distance running is ultimately a solo experience, with each athlete pushing his or her own internal boundaries further than the time before. It's in these moments, when we recognize and embrace our personal journey, striking out from each other, that I am so thankful for the sport that i've grown to love. It's in these moments, running solo, that I excel.
We finished our morning some 15 miles later, back at Starbucks, iced coffee on the patio, talking with a few other runners we'd passed around mile eight. They were nice enough to tell us about a cooler full of gatorade they'd stashed about a mile up the trail and told us to help ourselves. So we did. Mrs. Murie had the great idea to put a $5.00 bill inside to show our gratitude. She's one of the most selfless people I know, and always comes up with the best ideas like that.
Yeah, it's fair to say that I'm a fan of routine. Each and every Sunday morning before church, I drink coffee and read the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette at Common Grounds. I make my bed seven days a week. I only wear lace-up dress shoes. I always order the same meal at Bordinos: chicken caesar salad, beef tenderloin meatballs, and a glass of white wine from Oregon's Williamette Valley. I wash my sheets every Saturday. I listen to NPR in the mornings, the Bo Mattingly Show in the afternoons. Routine makes me feel safe and normal. It's a good thing.
But change is good, too. Even change in running. This next weekend, as we continue training for the the ultimate distance, the mileage will amp up from 15 to 20. While it's almost impossible to avoid the standard trail system when going that far, maybe we'll mix it up again and go somewhere new and different. If that's the case, I'll most likely revert back to that scared boy again for a moment, but it won't last long. And as long as I've got some time to think it through, I'll be just fine. I always am.
Run.
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