I think I'll take this moment to ramble on a bit about my first 11 mile run, right now at this moment when my endorphins are running high and I love the beauty of life and this ache in my hips and knees.
After starting off with wind and grey and even a few flakes of snow, the day transformed itself into perfection, blue blue cloudless sky and a crisp 50 degrees. It begged me to get outside, this day, so after a morning of shopping and family time, I laced up and headed out on a bit of an odyssey. I decided, while driving back from Lakewood, that it was about time I run through Rockefeller Park. After all, I've driven through that park for my whole life, taking MLK to the highway at least once a week for the past few years. But I've never walked through even one of the cultural gardens, can you imgine? I clocked the distance and found it to be just over 5 miles and so I set off with my goal in mind....
What a wonderful way to be a tourist in my own city, winding my way down the hill, through Case Western, a little detour to scope out a $40,000 house just up from the park, gawking at the mansions on Wade Park and East Boulevard along the way. I ran up and down some stairs in the Italian Garden, and underneath two of the wonderful bridges. At the playground-that-time-forgot I happened upon a group of deer, who looked up at me calmly then went back to grazing. A moment of kinship. Or perhaps they were just secure in the knowledge that I was already moving at my maximum speed and they had nothing to worry about. At 8 miles I found myself at the pond in front of the Art Museum and allowed myself 1 minute to stop and stretch and revel in this city I call home. I ran along Euclid, making plans to attend the Music at Meditation on Wednesdays at that one beautiful church. I headed up hill through Little Italy, noticing details on buildings I'd never seen before, the charming hidden gardens on the hillside. Running up Edgehill, hitting the steepest of the hills I'd encounter on the way home, my Pandora playlist came through, with a little "Fix You" timed just right to sing (gasp) along and keep up a 9:30 pace through to the top.
Mile 1-3, warm up, excitement to be on an adventure. Hardly noticed them passing as I concentrated on my route.
Mile 4-5, an adventure, finding the little house to look at (no backyard, sorryy, no dice) and then finding my way down to the park. Fast miles, feeling good-- good enough to run up and down those stairs. Smiling at fellow pedestrians, enjoying the warmth of the sun.
Mile 6-- A little slow. No more downhills. Flat and long through the park. A road I've driven before so no more mystery either. I found myself checking my distance. A lot. Fifty degrees started to feel a little too warm.My knees began to yell at me.
Mile 7-8 Heading up out of the park. Winding along that stretch of MLK we never drive, carefully avoiding geese. Feeling surprisingly fine, positive, in love with life and springtime mud and the fragility and perfection of it all. Loving the all the people out walking on Euclid, a wonderful random collection of humanity. Finding even construction sites to be beautiful .Runner's High, anyone?
Mile 9-10 Hills. That's all.
Mile 10-11:30. Every single step hurt. But running felt a great deal better than walking actually, so I plodded on.
I'd planned to run 12 miles today. But I didn't have the heart to keep going that last .70 when I found myself one block from home. Some days, 11:30 is enough. Today was one of those days, and I am feeling fine about it. Sore, tired, and rather hungry, but fine.
It's odd to feel this good after spending two hours of my fleeting weekend time torturing my body while very slowly traversing a route I could drive in 10 minutes.
Right now, I can't think of a better way to have spent those hours.
