on the iPod: "bend and break" -- keane
Saturday mornings have always been my absolute favorite time of the week. With the populace still holding on to the last few hours of slumber, the world outside slowly wakes and comes to life. A quiet hush lies like a wool blanket over time and space. Particularly blissful are the winter months, when the trees are bleak without foliage and the ground is hard with frost. Streams exist in a dormant state with patches of ice forming in clusters. I find myself wide awake in these early Saturday mornings, completely aware of my surroundings and acutely tuned to the starkness of the landscape, comfortable in the quiet and calm. It's perfect for running solo.
My affinity for winter Saturday mornings predates my distance running, as I used to spend the time reading nonfiction, drinking coffee, and then driving in the country. I can't count the number of mornings I was a fixture at Panera Bread Company, with a few other early risers, but mostly the staff baking bread and prepping for the morning. It was my time to decompress and take stock in the chapters of my life. Eventually, at the prodding of Mrs. Pugh, I found running and those mornings of reading and country roads slowly faded into training runs. I don't necessarily miss them, because they were in some ways a precursor to an ever better respite, but I do remember them dearly.
So with little pomp or fanfair, I made a conscious decision to begin my first distance run of 2013 with some time reading at my old haunt. Because my great friend-in-running Mrs. Murie was in South Carolina visiting her sister, I would be running alone, so the morning lent itself to quiet reading and reflection before lacing up for some training mileage. With hot coffee beside me and the morning's paper, I immediately found myself simultaneously reading and thinking about races for 2013. It's shaping up to be a great year that will start with a huge statement by running the Little Rock Marathon in exactly two months. I'm excited to take a shot at it but nervous at the same time, primarily because the window of training is going to be incredibly short.
While reading a light-hearted article about families in Germany who donate their Christmas trees to zoos after the holidays because the elephants like to play with them, a light snow began to fall outside. Reading it reminded me of babies who would rather play with the boxes and wrapping paper as opposed to the expensive toys they find inside. It's the simple things in life that make us the happiest, right? A kind note from a friend. Chocolate chip cookies warm from the oven. A hug and kiss from the right person. Elephants playing with Christmas trees.
When I saw the snow begin to fall, I knew it was time to run. And while said snowfall only lasted a few minutes, it was perfectly serene to run as light flakes fell effortlessly from the sky. It was magical. Giving way to simple overcast skies, the morning was cold but fresh with a light wind that didn't make it too uncomfortable for running. My legs felt a bit out of shape as I headed west and then south on the trail system, passing a few groups of people along the way, but nothing like the crowds on a warmer spring or fall morning. I was fine with the solitude of the trails, because I needed the time to focus on getting back into running. Since the Dallas Marathon last month, I have pretty much taken a break from training and I could feel the effects in the sluggishness of my steps, but the passion slowly crept back, starting in my brain and making it's way to my soul. It never really made it to my legs, who hurt like hell in the last mile, but I know they'll come along in their own time. I can only hope it's sooner than later.
I know that 2013 is going to be another amazing year laced up, with tons of half and full marathons on the radar, including Little Rock and a return to New York City, and I couldn't be happier about the upcoming spring season. For whatever reason this running thing has become my life, giving me a purpose and identity that, on some levels, I didn't really have for many years. Never would I have guessed that I would become a marathoner, and now I can't imagine myself without it. And I'm equally as excited about the upcoming year away from running. It's been quite some time that i've felt as content and whole as I do right now, and that's a really nice feeling. Sometimes all it takes is being around the right person to change everything, and that's exactly what's happened. It's a good thing. A really good thing.
I'm not one to make formal resolutions for the new year and don't plan on starting now, because my understanding of moving forward is abstract. I don't think it terms of numbers or goals or objectives. It's simply not how my brain is wired. This mindset shows up in my understanding of distance running as well -- I have no sense of pace, I'm not interested in winning, and rarely am I concerned with beating a time or hitting a mark. I'd rather just run because it's fun for me. If I had to verbalize a new year's resolution, however, it would be something about living each and every moment to full capacity, and I hope that a lot of those involve running shoes. But I also want my moments in 2013 to be focused on human connections based in love and compassion. Sometimes, in the frantic pace of life, we forget how important those are, and I want to remember them again. Maybe i'll plan to spend some more of these cold, bleak winter mornings reading about elephants with Christmas trees. There'll be plenty of time for running afterward. There always is.
Run.
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