Sunday, May 19, 2013


"What's that jargle? Scripture? You quotin' Scripture?" -Coach Z

No, I didn't suddenly have religious epiphany.  Is it the ideal ratio for mixing a fine scotch and water?  No, that would be 2:1, thank you very much.  How long I can hold my breath?  Nope... errr... maybe, but that's not the point.  So, what is that number?  Well, there in lies my story...

It seems spring is finally drawing near.  The snow has begun to melt on the mountainsides, and if you look closely you might notice a small fringe of green beginning to poke though around the edges of the tundra.

Yesterday the sky was clear and blue.  I decided to forgo the sprint intervals I had planned for the day, and just go for a good run.  Since my Jeep is in the shop my options were a bit limited.  I decided to just head out and see where I ended up. 

I first headed to Bunker Hill, my regular training hill.  At around 400 vertical feet it is no mountain, but it is a fairly steep mile long climb up the back, and the views from the top are worth every step.  Still energized I decided to run almost strait down the other side.  My heart was pounding.  I felt free.

Instead of heading home I turned towords the bridge.  I began to wonder how far I could go.  As it turns out... quite a ways.

Over the bridge, up the hill, back down through the town, along the shore, past the dump, along the cliffs around the point, by the lake and over one last hill to Humpy Cove (almost the end of the road system).  At which point I refused to go any further.  I was getting tired and knew I had to run back just as far as I had come.

By the time I shuffled back across the bridge, my legs were beginning to ache.  I was getting quite thirsty and a bit hungry.  The last couple miles dragged on and the small hill to my house has never felt like such torture, but I made.

As I climbed the steps to my house, I looked down at my watch: 3:16.  I haven't been so exhausted from a run in a very long time.  In fact, that is the longest I have ever run nonstop.  I admit my pace wasn't impressive, and at around 18 miles it wasn't even a marathon.  I am proud none the less.

I hadn't planned it or prepared in the least.  I didn't even take any water.  Unwilling to stop I just kept thinking, "Well, maybe just a bit further," and then... there I was.

Sun, dirt, wind, pain and freedom.  The best three hours I've spent in some time.  Maybe it's about time to get out and run (but not today... my legs hurt).