Gettin' some puppy love from my girl Shady a few months ago.
Shady, one of my three dogs, woke me at 5:30 a.m. She was whining because she needed to use the doggie restroom, a.k.a., outside. She was ahead of my alarm clock’s schedule, which wasn’t set to go off until 6 a.m.
As I shuffled to put on some warmer clothes to take them outside, my dogs clustered around me. Mag’s tail banged loudly against the wall as he waited (impatiently) for me to be ready to take them outside and feed them. One of Mag’s nicknames is Mag-the-Wag because we are hard-pressed to find a time when that tail isn’t wagging. Another nickname is Iron Tail because of how forcefully he wags his tail, evidenced by the loud thumps when it hits walls, furniture, cabinets, and so on. Despite the forceful pumps, it doesn’t seem to hurt him: hence iron tail.
Mag
As Mag’s tail pumped and thumped, and Shady whined, and Bella ran around in circles, I put on my coat and took them outside to take care of the morning business. Usually, I can just open the back door and let them run around in our half-acre fenced back yard. But, our house is under construction, so there are areas where we had to take the fence down. Thus, I have to go outside with them to make sure they don’t become adventurous, and wind up in the neighbor’s backyard. (As Bella did just 3 days ago when she let herself into my brother’s house, which is just 5 doors down from ours.)
Out the four of us went. The sky was turning a luminous gray, moving the night out of the way for the upcoming sun. The frost glittered on the grass and leaves. I could hear it crunch under my feet. It was a beautiful morning. Crisp and dry, with only the faintest wind. I could smell the earth. Perfect weather for my run.
With only two weeks to go until the Philadelphia Marathon, today’s long run would be shorter than last week’s, as I am officially in the “taper” portion of my training plan. (What’s a taper all about? Check out this article about tapering as a requirement for optimum performance, or this article, which discusses tapering for a marathon.) Last week, my volume peaked, with a 21 mile long run, along with other shorter runs, some cycling, swimming and weight training. So, this morning, I was shooting for a 2-hour-ish run.
I have to be honest: I just didn’t really feel like it when I first woke up, even with the glorious morning. I’ve been training hard and steady since April. Before that, I had one month “off” after training for four months for the Ocean Drive Marathon. I’m ready to wake up and do a work out based on what I’m feeling that day, not based on my training plan tells me I MUST do. You know, maybe a workout that doesn’t involve running, biking or swimming–like a kick boxing class or snow shoeing or skiing. But, I’m not there yet. Philly’s in two weeks. I had to get this run in, and after all, it was a perfect morning.
I drug my feet a little bit getting ready. After taking care of the dogs, I returned inside, turned on the coffee maker, and assembled my gear: contacts, sunglasses, leggings, shirt, reflective vest, arm warmers, ear warmers, gloves, forerunner, MP3 player, water bottles. As the coffee dripped, I brushed my teeth, and worked on getting my head focused on the upcoming workout. I was thinking about the route I would take. (Here’s the route I wound up with: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/18232663.) I realized that I wanted to do a different route, spice things up. But, I didn’t have time to drive to a new location because I was meeting some friends at 9:30 a.m. I had to keep it local. As the sun started to push through the trees, I was ready to get started.
I started off easy, warming up. The air bit shrewdly(Hamlet, Act I, Scene IV). I inhaled deeply, and could feel the cold air inside my nose, along my arms, and my legs. Indeed, it was cold, but not terribly so. Invigorating, not numbing. The air was still. The neighborhood was quiet. The shadows hulked over the road, not willing to give in just yet to the overature from the sun. The frost lay delicately on whatever surface it could: twinkling tiny lights.
At mile two, I entered Heritage Park, a small park area surrounding a pond. As I looked across the pond, steam was rising from the water, evidence that the air temperature was cooler. Some of the trees were still hanging on to the last of their leaves, lending gold and burnt orange tones. The sunlight splintered through the trees and highlighted the fog–the scene was breathtaking. If only I had my camera!
As I began to feel warmer, I steadily increased my pace. I ran along Absecon Creek, with the ephemeral fog rising from the water’s surface. A few fishermen were heading out in boats, to try their hand at catching a striped bass. The bay grass waved ever so slightly, and the ducks hardly even ruffled their feathers as I ran by, their beaks nestled into their feathers I was running inside of a postcard. I had forgotten my earlier lack of desire. This was sweet!
Somewhere around mile 7, I began to feel it: the flow. My legs were moving without the need for me to push them. They were tapping a rhthym along the pavement: move, move, move, move. My lungs were pumping. My heart was joyful. Oh, yes, this, this, was running! This feeling explains why I pull myself out of a warm bed before the sun rises. This feeling explains why I don’t care (and am secretly proud) that my toenails are falling off. This feeling explains why I push through the strain that accompanies a challenging effort. This feeling is the flow of running, of blood moving through veins, bringing oxygen to lungs, heart, muscles. This feeling is the flow of life.
For the remainder of the run, I steadily increased my pace, and felt stronger as I went. I kept my heart rate aerobic, but pushed it to the threshold during the last few miles. Did it hurt? Sure. Was it challenging? You bet. The challenge is what keeps me going. The challenge is why I fell in love with running so many years ago. No other form of exercise makes me feel this flow.
Days like this don’t happen all the time: It was a perfect run on a perfect morning. I ran 14.05 miles in one hour and 58 minutes, averaging an 8:24 minute/mile pace overall. The first half of the run was slower than the second half, as I like to work on negative splits whenever I can. Progressively running faster in training teaches the legs to do the same thing in a race situation. So, in a marathon, during those last few miles, when my legs are on fire and I want to slow down: I don’t. I can run a little bit faster because that’s what my muscles are used to doing – even when they are tired. I am pleased with this effort.
Bella (black lab) and Mag (yellow lab) doing their own kind of flow.
As I got out of the shower after my run, I thought to myself, There is no better feeling than this right now. I feel accomplished. I feel so alive. Even now, several hours later, I still feel the afterglow of this morning’s flow.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go let my dogs out.
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After I completed the July 4th Killington Triathlon, I learned that going uphill is really not that bad. It’s difficult, but I love a good challenge and muscle burn. Thanks to genetics’ blessing with my large quadriceps and hamstrings, hills are a challenge I can handle. 
