It wasn't as long as I'd hoped....apparently, when I got lost last weekend, I added another few miles off the main loop adding the new block didn't make up for....but yesterday I still ran just shy of 21 miles.
The weather was not going to fight me this time; balmy and beautiful, at times a little warm, but scattered clouds at intervals brought the temps to tolerable levels. I dressed in the same pair of shorts and tops I'd wear for similar circumstances on race day, and only carried extra money and a power bar. I took the first stretch to John Williams Park in a mental fog, just meandering in my own head, aiming for that first big stop at Publix in Cooper City. Everything felt fine, although my energy was flagging. Work has been intense, crammed with clients and low-grade chaos. The attention to manage my time and the needs of others is always delicate business. So when I finally find myself out on the straight stretches working my legs out, thinking of anything and everything, I find the space of free form liberating, where the motion, rhythm and emotion become tied into a loose dance, and just moving forward is all that matters.
Thanks to those drills, I could feel the difference in my level of endurance by the time I reached Publix. Took my time at my break and set out once more this time to Hiatus and what is the longest western reach before heading back east. I took Taft in one big bite to University, cutting past the halfway mark (mile 13) and the toughest part. I know now this is where my race will be. By this time my body wants to take a break, feels its done its hard work thanks very much. I can feel the fight between that 13 and the next....and the motivation I have to muster to begin another race. It's the middle that will kill me....So at every stretch I could, where the road would let me, I focused on my gait, my stride, my rhythm. I looked for the ways my body talked to me about movement and attempted to work with it. At one point, with the ache in my shoulders bothering me, I felt the 'chi' between my hands molded through my solar plexus, kneading its way in my core with my footfalls...loosening up my arms, allowing my shoulders to swing through. At other times, I felt the dissociative pull of floating just past myself, as a response to pain, or to the pleasure of connecting with it, not sure which...and the happy disorientation wondering exactly where I am....And on the last stretch home, the happy abandon of a final kick. I still had it in me to break hard for a mile or so down Thomas, pretending to hear the rush of crowds and runners passing through the chute. I looked for faces that would not be there who would smile at my coming, knowing all along I was on my way.
It's another 5 miles, I know. And they say it's the crowds that bring you in. Regardless of where they stand, there are reasons in my heart for this run. I run to find my cruising speed where all motion ceases to be conscious, and the winds take me up in their arms with gratitude to lift my burden from the earth. I run to take myself on a journey of discovery where anything is possible, and no matter where I find myself on the course, it becomes a good place, the potential for the next mile.
I have the confidence now, although it's still a mystery, those last miles, but maybe that's poetic. There are many threads in life that have question marks as the process continue to unfold. We may force them for resolution, but they will unfold in their own time. Not having those final miles to me yet seems justified. I will earn them on race day.
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