Sunday, January 12, 2014

running solitary

As the wind pushed roughly against my body, I leaned forward slightly to continue propelling myself toward the end of the dam across Lake Fayetteville. The glow of the sun was to one side, and tendrils of rose streaked across the sky and reflected in the lake on the other side of me. It was, despite the strong headwind, exhilarating and lovely, and I was simultaneously alone (without even an iPod to accompany me) and together with the other people enjoying this spring-like day.

Lately, I have found myself running alone more and more, electing to run my long runs alone as I train for marathon #3 (Little Rock, March 2014). While not always by choice, I have consciously sought out running alone.  I would not have been able to train for and run either of my two marathons without my running group, and at times I miss them (and will be rejoining the Wednesday morning run this week!); however, I'm also learning to enjoy the mediation and introspection--or the void--the solitary run can provide.

Today, I ran without any sort of distraction, and the miles flew beneath my feet. During this run I thought of nothing, of everything. I wrote the beginning of this post in my head; I soaked up the sunshine; I experienced the feeling of my body moving itself forward, the muscles I'm learning to understand better (through barre3 and yoga) working hard to support and sustain me; I observed the world alive around me as I traversed the Lake Fayetteville trail. I never grew bored, and I was sorry to see the end.

Part of my joy in motion was the delight of being able to move again after being too sick to leave my house for two days (and feeling under the weather for much of the week). Although I'm only at about 85% currently, I feel like a whole new woman, especially after my epic and traumatic hangover of last Sunday and the death cold that felled me on Wednesday and Thursday and part of Friday.

But more of it was that I'm learning to delight in just running. I barely glanced at my GPS watch and just allowed myself to enjoy the beautiful day, the wind, the fact that I could run in shorts and a light layer. On days when I don't feel like running (which was actually some today--I was due to run a long run but decided to push it until tomorrow), it is good to remember that when I do run, I am able to fully be in myself, relaxed and present. And even though running with others is intensely fun and helps the time pass for those 20-milers, I in some way lose the ability to meditate and enjoy just being a body moving through space. What I'm looking for now is a balance between getting to run with the energy of other runners carrying me and also being able to call forth my own quiet joy to delight in the solitary experience.

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