Every little thing

Good runs are defined by the unexplainable phenomenom of all elements working in harmony; bad runs by the equally mysterious breakdown of parts, be it one or many, doesn't matter, because it only takes one. This week, its a blister on my little toe, right foot. The left foot, nemisis of strains and stresses for most of 2 or 3 weeks, became whole. The right foot, meanwhile, had apparently taken the weight of that timeframe and it was that toe, always landing at the outside edge that finally turned to a little agonizing nugget in the way of my next mile.
Saturday the 14th was an official 'training run' for World Run Day on November 11. I signed up for 10 miles, with an anticipated time of 1:40, which was fast, I knew, for me, if I stopped at all. (folks, I am slow, and not ashamed to admit it....if I do an 11 minute mile thats OK with me.) I put my obligatory visit in with the parents and ran errands first, and did not hit the road until 3PM. The whole time I wondered about running at all- that toe had been pushing out, blistering, reblistering for days. Finally I decided to put myself in the mindset of every great distance runner I could think of and laced up with the thought; what's the worse that can happen? I walk, I run a short ways, I run another day....? It was hothothot and humid. I packed on my bottle of gatorade and extra fruit roll and cash. (Had to learn this lesson the hard way; as a hypoglycemic, energy is the key to surviving any mileage above 6 or so....) I put those first footsteps down and OUCHie ouch ouch, ouch....this was all I heard in my head through my ipod music cadence, but I pushed, pushed up the overpass, pointing towards the beach. A bandana with ice wrapped in it was around my neck and did a remarkable job keeping me cool in the midday heat (thanks, Runners World!). I knew I was favoring that right foot but kept a slow pace as steady as I could. My endurance was fine. I made it to my first stop at Publix to hit the cold water fountain and the A/C. Turned north to Dania Beach Blvd, a new, straight stretch that had me walking the half mile before I hit the beach. It wasn't just my feet by that time. And I was only half-way. I loitered a long time at a convenience store with a gatorade, eating my dried fruit, and watching the local beach traffic in the parking lot, the swimmers, smokers, bikers, drinkers, the wired-looking kids, and their worn-out parents shuffling in flip-flops. My resolve strengthened as I thought of myself on a break in my trek as an adventurer/athlete, slurping down my elixir, ready to get back in to my run. And off I went, parallel the ocean, those wonderful wafting breezes, full of brine and bird calls, poetry of people falling into waves...I was pushing through pain and fatigue, and stopped again in the shade of Surf Road to stretch, and walked to the Snack shop at North Park, my next regroup point. From there, a straight stretch west, and home. I loaded up on water and headed into the sun. I ran/walked this entire last part; the temps throughout were certainly in the high 80's to low 90's. It was insanity to attempt this run. I did it in 3 hours. A cold shower and mountains of food revived me enough to settle me on my floor where I managed to pass the rest of the evening.

And my foot? The insert of my right shoe was damp from the oozing off my toe. I stopped feeling the pain after I hit North Park. That was about mile 7? I still have the blister, and have run 2 more days. My hope is it will 'toughen up' eventually. I am still 'seeing' that marathon, and reading accounts of runners who overcome much more than the disturbances of one toe, one afternoon, one crappy run. My question is, does the marathon 'see' me?

Making a comeback

Naysayers come in all stripes; beware the message "don't- can't- shouldn't- watch out". Of course pain is not the goal. Neither is self-recriminations in any form....."the door is wide open" is the message heard through inner channels, and one I choose to take to heart, as I took to the road again, with the waves of heat massaging me from head to heel as I pounded back out on the roads. Its a new game, not a variation of the old, even if it feels that way. And it seems to be a key in what it takes in my focus right now, not to overlay everything on what comes before. Some things drop away and are done. While others become new trails, broken open by desire, opportunity and motivation. It's still challenging to nail down what makes a run effortless, strong and fearless, and others faltering stumbling messes. The chemistry of one day morphs into the alchemy of another and the solar bursts of old light tumble into us with incessant force, magnetizing us to our purpose. How do we harness any of it, or are we really just responding almost automatically to larger and larger impulses? Every step is a confirmation of my presence in a plan, a tap into the matrix of energy that pulls me along its web like lightening in slow motion. I can, I will, I shall carry myself forward, and find along the way the willing partners who choose the run, the path, the company of hopefulness. We have no other choice. Its forward or nothing. The door is wide open.