Ever since the last race, my runs have felt unusually grueling; totally lacking those occasional moments of fleet-footedness, the mild euphoria, the sense of strength. Topping it off, there’s been a lot to do (I know – who doesn’t have more on their plate than they feel like they can stomach these days!), and for some reason sleep’s been coming hard. Last night, for example, I lay there tossing and turning until at 11:30 I had to get up and read Will Durant’s history of Rome starting with the Etruscans (Caesar and Christ) until almost one before I was ready to lay down again. Given all this, I felt like I was going to fall asleep at the dinner table. By the time the dishes were cleared and the kids were on their way to bed at 8 p.m., I was ready to bag tonight’s run all together. But there’s no time tomorrow, and I needed one more before Sunday’s long run – so I went. And it was awesome. I didn’t think about speed, let my tempo be whatever it wanted to be. And I didn’t think much about my route. I just ran – toward the river because I wanted to be near the water, I guess. Over the new footbridge that connects the West Side to the East south of the Fisher Cats Stadium. Up through the Millyard. Through the parks. Always with the smell and the roar of the big water of the Merrimack along side. Past the kids on their bikes, the students, the homeless men with their beer cans and sleeping bags, the old men walking with their canes, the guys working on the parking lots in front of the old brick mills, the women walking their dogs; and then looping around to come like an arrow down Elm Street past the people on the stoops in front of the apartment buildings, teenaged girls and boys, sullen young men smoking and scowling, wearing sunglasses in the dark, little kids playing on the sidewalk in their pajamas, then into the bright lights of downtown, cruising back over the bridge as real dark settled in, through clouds of hatching mayflies coming off the river, bugs drowning in the sweat pouring off my face, bugs in my eyes and mouth, then back onto the West Side and heading toward home again. Time came back a little. And then I was home. Wasn’t a particularly fast run; but it felt fast in that good way that doesn’t feel like hard work but feels a little like payback for all the other miles you’ve run in the past. Like every once in a while you get a free one. Thanks for that. I’m pretty sure I’ll sleep fine tonight.
Tags: Running
