I knew the temps were expected to be high, as well as the humidity, and starting out at 7:30AM was not early enough. I kept trying to ratchet down expectations but once I began, the morning air felt so good, I settled into the first stretch into Emerald Hills and thought, let's just see what happens.
To run on a Sunday morning is to have the world to myself. I put the ipod on This American Life, full of nice long interesting stories, and set off to the West. I figured I'd cut into the Seminoles rez and keep heading west. But when I crested to rise over the Turnpike I passed that turn and kept heading out Stirling. Lo and behold, as I began to feel hot and weak, a Publix appeared! Note to self, Publix on Stirling west of Turnpike. Kept west until I hit Davie Rd and my chance to turn south into shaded neighborhoods. Somewhere in here I got lost; not sure where my head was, but before I knew it, I saw Sheridan looming and realized I needed to turn east. The stretch that took me back to the overpass on 441 was hot as I took a straight shot through bare-naked, hard scrabble streets, the foreclosure signs, the edges of disrepair showing, until I found my oasis at John Anderson Park.
I took my time recovering, re-hydrating and thank god, refueling thanks to a leftover accelerade gel from the half marathon. The Park was lovely with its lush trees and dog walkers, the sun hidden behind a canopy of breathing green. Heading out, I decided to take the straight shot east on Thomas, and put my mind on automatic, work on the goal of keeping some semblance of form and comfort as I came into the home stretch.
This was the first of the longer runs in a while. Altogether I guess 10-12 miles, not sure. Maybe more. Usually by the time I hit that last bit I am past played, I am dragging ass all the way. This time, I found myself crossing 56th into an easy swing of arms and legs into a rhythm I didn't think I could muster. I had good tunes rolling now, and lifted out of my worries, my stiffness, the discomfort that comes with a long run, and shifted silently into a gait that took me more or less comfortably home.
I loved that last fartlek, rounding the final corner onto my neighborhood streets, willing myself to see it all the way through the end, trying to stop, to walk, to regain a spring in my step. I felt triumphant, exuberant. The marathon, which seemed a world away suddenly collapsed into doable segments. A few of these put together, on top of all the strength I can muster equals decent finish on race day. I can still do it. It is still possible.
The rest of the day unraveled into heartache and disappointment, as the reality of family challenges continues to sink in. Running teaches me that what others accept as permanent obstacles are never as solid as we think. There is only our choice not to engage it, not to take it on, not to believe it's possible. Where faith pulls the door open, hard work makes it happen. That, and the integration of body with soul as it travels the big lonely roads of life.
Will you join me? Are you wondering what you, too could accomplish, if you try? Do it, I say. The Universe will come behind you and place wings on your feet. The energy will be there, just when you least expect it. The Mother finds a way to put all of us in Her lap of abundance, if we can only see it through the haze of our tears.
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