So what I wrote earlier was a slight…alright, total lie. Between packing up and cleaning in preparation for this move, I didn’t get out for a run until after five, a considerable rarity. It has been either earlier or not at all as of late.
But a tiresome morning/early afternoon of schlepping equated to finishing off the brewed stuff sitting in the coffee pot from this morning in the late afternoon, about three-quarters of a larger size mug.
I know during the spring I mentioned my dalliance with coffee, a poor trait I recently picked up from men who influence me most (you bastards). All along I have planned on dialing back my nearly daily consumption upon completion of grad school as while it does the trick in terms of waking me up when need be, it certainly doesn’t make me feel very good. I once thought I was suffering from a heart attack late at night after consuming caffeine earlier in the day. The pain in my chest was so harsh and heavy, I honestly wondered if I was dying. Turns out it was just inflamed cartilage between my ribcage and breastbone that has no know cause (thanks, medicine) but I’ve always been leery of caffeine since…until the last 8-10 months or so.
With coffee already imbibed, I took ownership of the streets about a half hour later upon realizing that the sun sets disturbingly early these days.
Here lies the lie: whereas yesterday my run was calm and calculated, a flowing constant rhythm to my footsteps and thoughtfully controlled pace, today very much was not. In musical terms, it was interpretive jazz, heavy on bass and xylophone to the lethargic waltz performed yesterday. I had such incredible turnover while feeling so light on my feet, it was like I was in racing flats.
While I’m not the biggest believer in muscle memory, my head knows speed and my ego relishes it.
Between the cool tingle enveloping my legs glowing red from the wind, caffeine rolling throughout my entire being and my heart taking percussive command, I was not going to locate an internal governor amidst all that jazz today.
For me, being in the midst of a great run where everything is going right and feels really great is akin to the early stages of falling in love. There’s a child-like giddiness with every step and action. Things happen only for you, traffic lights stop in your favor or dogs are walked in a different direction. The recollection of a private moment fills you with such power and warmth…mmm. That was my today, a short burst that brought up commanding runs and races from my past and placed the thought of doing it again in my future.
It’s magical, and the mere memory of something that good is worth reviving and feeling every so often. It’s worth the inevitable crash and pain that comes later.
What'd I do? I fell in love and felt in control…if only for 3.4 miles.