Saturday, October 14, 2006

I can run.

I went running this week. I think the whole week off after the marathon was a good thing. I needed a break from running in my head more than anything - my training hadn't been overly intense, but I'd had marathons on my mind for too long. Then again, once I learned what it was like to have other crud filling my mind, I'll choose running any day. So I did every other day this week. I'm not sure if I'm gonna run tomorrow - I'd have to get up in precisely 4 hours and 42 minutes to run, due to the schedule of the day. Insane - sort of, but it'd be my sanity. There are 3 extra children sleeping in my house at the moment - giggly girls all still awake. I can't really seem to keep track of the coming and goings or how many munchkins I have in tow at once - today it varied from 2-6. After tomorrow's soccer game we'll be headed out of town to stay with friends for my husband's duathlon. This is what life is like in a gingerbread house - never dull. My 6-year-old was actually excited to help me clean toilets today. Life is such a mystery.

My first run this week was the crisp, clear, fall day I needed. I ran along the beach, passed all walks of like, and let the lyrics of my music trigger the thoughts and emotions. I had a lot going on in my head this week - all that stuff from my previous blog post - and couldn't quite wrap my mind around how to tackle it - let alone absorb it all. Wednesday I ran hills - hard. I think processing life came in the form of anger, and I hammered out the miles. It was one of those days where you keep going faster and faster and it feels better and better . . then you realize you've finished all the hills and it's like you're at the top of the world. You look down at the view and somehow life takes a new perspective. Then you run back home at a slower pace, feeling satisfied somehow. I also went for a drive on Wednesday. I grabbed some music to reflect my mood, got in the car, and drove south, skirting the water, and driving on all sorts of windy back roads. I was gone for 5 hours. I stopped along the way somewhere near a fishing pier and did some writing. I thought of all kinds of analogies to life - the fog bank blocking my vision - the island across the water that was so close by but inaccessible - the planes taking off from the airport, escaping to destinations unknown. It was good time to just think.

Today I ran with the sunrise. I usually love to sit in the kitchen and watch the sky turn pink with a hot cup of coffee in my hands, but I needed to get out today. I didn't run far - just over the hill really, so I could look back at the sun rising over the mountains. The fall always brings colors of neon pink to the sunrise - I'm not sure why that is, but it's such a cool sight. A calm quiet morning with a thin marine layer of hazy lavender-blue, maybe you could call it periwinkle for fun, and a bright neon pink sun glowing over the horizon. I actually stopped mid-run on some street corner with no one around and I just stared at it in awe. There's some sort of sense of renewal in a sunrise - a new day, a new start, a new beginning. Maybe it's a sense of hope.


I want to say thanks for the comments on my last post. I usually write because I love to write and it's good for my soul. I never write with the expectation for others to read it, and when people do, I'd prefer that it be fun and lighthearted or something profound that could have an effect on someone. But life isn't always that way - not reality anyway. I've learned, though, that sometimes what other people write in return can have that profound affect on me. I was able to talk to someone and eventually get some advice, some answers, some helpful suggestions, and some direction of where to go next. Some parts of life have to be about the little things you can do. And that's okay.

2 comments:

Bob said...

GBM, I LOVE YOUR BLOG! Glad you recovered so quickly after your marathon, so a week off, check, got it.

JustRun said...

Sounds like a great view on your runs. It sounds like you're really enjoying it, which is not exactly my story right now. It's starting to feel a little like a job but I always just tell myself "marathon in a couple months, keep going." Thanks for reminding me to take in the view.

I'm proud of you for doing what you can. There's something to be said for that and not enough people do it.