It’s been awhile,
nigh onto five years ago when I was training – with daughter K! – for the Nova
Scotia Marathon, that I ran this long.
And, lo and
behold, the run (on Feb. 13) went very well. One stop to attend to a
microscopic splinter in my right foot that had escaped my notice. It is a day
after a sleet storm that is at first mild and then turns blustery and cold,
even a whisk or two of flurries.
I’m out for two
hours and twenty-five minutes, just five minutes short of my goal. Even at
a slower than usual 10 minute mile pace (2 hrs, 25 mins = 145 minutes, or 14.5
miles), but I’m thinking the pace is swifter than that, so let’s call it sixteen
miles. At 63 … and for that time, and even now, an hour or so later, nagging
aches in my arm and pinky of my right hand have vanished. My eyes are clear,
and my mood lifted. At times like this, in the midst of a protracted runner’s
high, I feel like a kid. Even more so than what has become my reputation.
I go slow, and don’t
allow myself to push my chest forward in a sprinter style. Let the force of
each foot strike be as evenly distributed up the body as the laws of physics
allow. Twinge in the knee? Slow down some more, settle in the gait. Balance. Keep
it in balance.
Which is my goal: balance
in writing, reading and now running long distance again. Not hard but long, and
so far, reaping the benefits.
Next: Running for Your Life: Winter Survival Tips
