I had my hopes for taking on a 5K in Key West this weekend, but I wasn't able to register or prepare on time, and decided to run the 16 miler in Key Biscayne instead. The lighthouse photo is the lowest tip of the peninsula, at the end of Bill Baggs State Park, where I leave the car. I run a mile just to get out of the park and up into the city of Key Biscayne itself. Another few miles gets me to the highway stretch connecting the city to the first low causeway and marinas. There are only bikepaths, which us runners must share, and I run into their path so I can see them coming and jump out of their way. Cadres of cyclists in lively colors funnel down the lanes; while cars swoosh by. It's a nerve-wracking stretch that seems endless, and the first bridge gives me a mental break, taking me to my first rest stop. Finally, they have installed water fountains at the bathrooms, wow!! I take my time. I'm doing this all in the middle of the day, the heat is intense, and I'm feeling it. The next stretch takes me past the seaquarium and the beaches. It looks as though a triathlon has just finished...I see the tables, and athletes in unusual gear (for runners) milling about....I like to bike and swim, but for now at least, running is all I can handle...they are some serious looking athletes, however!
I'm coming up to the Rickenbacker, hovering over the Bay in all it's flight from gravity, taking over the landscape as the dominant feature and filling me with dread and determination. I don't have a ton of enthusiasm for this, but I do have a pressing need to prove to myself, at the eve of my 52nd birthday, that I can conquer it, so with a last deep breath and final inner pep-talk, it's up, and up I go.
I find a rhythm and a stride. Thanks to my new chiropractor, I am running without that hitch in my leg, so I can take the climb without gritting my teeth. I'm steady; I'm careful not to look ahead, where the stretch of the uphill curve appears to go on forever, but catch, instead, the full vistas of water where the boats have anchored, and the light plays with spectrum of grays and blues on the waves. Once I reach the top, I notice storm clouds just north. I take the measure of my progress so far; if I turn now, I may out-run the weather...it's a very long way back south, so I come back down the way I came, easing my legs on the downhill, picking up a pace to get me back to my rest stop, and chasing down a Clif Bar with lots and lots of water before I take the highway stretch to the city once again.
I struggle here...My legs are leaden, and it's increasingly hard to find a rhythm I can sustain. The traffic is annoying and there are just enough cyclists to make me jump into the grass at annoying intervals. My thoughts are discouraging; I feel like a middle-aged wanna-be trying to believe in things that are outside my reach...I want to do it over again, start younger, eliminate the missteps, miscalculations, I want to do ultras, team relays, trail runs, I want legs like that girl that passed me- how did she pass me, when she seemed so compact, feet so low to the ground? I am the slowest runner in the world....
I can only handle this if I break up the rest of the run into sections. Part 3 is the highway. Part 2 is the city of Key Biscayne, which I come into on leaden feet, circumnavigating the sidewalks like a zombie....block by agonizing block....until I reach Part 1 as I head into Bill Baggs. I get lost taking the first left once I see the word "beach" on a signpost. This is the brain fatigue that happens during long, hot runs....and I could not get myself back on the road until I followed the path through the parking area.....Once back, it seemed forever to get down far enough to my lot, my car, and my provisions. The park was packed. People from foreign countries and others flooding to the beach. I was going to stay. I opt not to; I don't have an ounce of energy left to tackle this much pushing and shoving in a remote park.
I realize I am none of those things I wished for, and yet I am some of them. I am, as usual, perplexed by the direction things go. I sometimes feel I need to be further, not closer, and my need to run is to push myself outside the envelope of humanity just enough to breathe.....
It wasn't what I'd planned. It wasn't what I'd hoped. No one rescues you when you bonk; only races provide support. Otherwise, it's only you and the road facing you. So you better get moving.....
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