Note: The following will seem relevant only to those who consider themselves runners, but it also applies to anyone who routinely, or even occasionally, tries something that’s hard. And if you don’t fall into any of those categories, go ahead and read it simply to enjoy the sublime beauty of my prose.
Have you ever had one of those runs where everything just clicked?
Where your shoes moved so lightly across the road that the overriding sensation was one of floating, and the briefest contact with the surface propelled you forward as if friction and drag were unprovable theories because every joule of energy generated by your body was instantaneously converted into forward motion? Where your breathing was effortless and silent, and the steady rhythm of soles on pavement provided a winsome back beat to the strong throb of your heart?
Where the rutted caliche road offered not trip hazards but acceleration assists, because every footfall was perfectly placed…just to the side of those rocks, just in front of this berm, smoothly gliding over that patch of sand? Where the coyote pacing you in the pasture twenty yards away grinned as he loped along, silently acknowledging you as hermano, and the rattlesnakes beside the trail recoiled at the sheer awesomeness of your movement?
Where the sweat dripping down your face tasted as sweet as spring water, and rather than burning your eyes, it washed them clean as a spring mountain rain, and the flowers sang for joy as stray drops, gleaming like drops of liquid gold in the sunlight, enervated them?
Have you had that experience? Have you?
If so, I hate you, because if you take all the preceding and multiply it by negative one million, that perfectly describes my run this morning. So there.
Sitting here on the couch, I’d reach over, grab my glass of iced tea, and raise it in salute of your endeavor … but I can’t … I’m too bushed just reading your description … and I need to save my energy for operating the TV remote at the top of the hour.
Jeff, as I said, this post is for anyone who tries hard and challenging things, and that’s a highly personal judgment. TV remotes can be wicked.
I read your blog quite often but rarely comment…until today. I’m sipping coffee grumbling, recalling this (and many other) morning runs, not liking you very much. The last paragraph however made me shout “Amen brother!”, then proceed to clean up the mess I made with the coffee.
Tracie, thanks for the comment. And you may relate to this, as well. To add insult to injury (or vice versa), my knees are vigorously complaining this morning about yesterday’s workout.
Try to avoid getting old!
….and hear I thought I was reading the daily personal journal of Berry Simpson running in his Vibrams. 😉
Yeah, except Berry is a better writer and runner, so he probably wouldn’t appreciate the comparison.