"It's fun to run fast!"

Time of departure: 10:15pm
Return: 11:45pm
Phase of the moon: Waxing Crescent, 18% illuminated. Set.

Temperature: 31F
Wind Chill: 28F
Dew Point: 29F
Lake Temp: 33F

Route: Met up with Matt, to lakefront, down running path, over bridges, over hill, back home
Approx Distance: 5.5 miles of running. Plus another mile of walking and talking. I just figured it out with gmap pedometer!
Running buddy: Matt
Clothing: Oh, the challenge of changing weather! Matt and I had a conference call about this. I settled on shoes, Universal Sole socks (I haven’t yet washed my new athletic socks and they are not to be trusted. Perhaps I didn’t mention that I threw out my old socks…), army pants, no spandex, a sweat wicker badly in need of a wash, t-shirt, windbreaker (no gortex), gator, hat, gloves, no mittens. Gator, hat, and gloves all eventually came off, but went back on once we started our “cool” down walk. Finally, we were able to have a cool down that didn’t involve us running away from each other shouting, “Good run, Matt.” “Good run, Mary.” Matt ran in his usual t-shirt and hooded sweatshirt and Michael Jordon pants. He was gloveless too for most of the run and his hands weren’t even cold!

The Drive Activity: I didn’t notice.
Dog Beach Activity: I didn’t notice.
People tally:
0 Walkers
0 Runners
1 Bikers
1 Person with 2 dogs
________________________________


The first thing I again noticed when I set out from my apartment and began to run was the complete lack of any feeling of dread. As much as I considered trying to talk Matt out of running and into watching a movie and eating nutritional-yeast-dusted-popcorn, it was 10:15pm after all, I was craving this run. I was yearning for this run. Really and truly needing to get out there and stretch my legs, fill my lungs to capacity, check in with my body, and feel it come alive. I had been looking forward to this all day. Running has become a spiritual act and an emotionally uplifting activity and I needed a boost.

The second thing I noticed was that I felt much lighter without the gortex jacket on. And then I realized that since I last wore my windbreaker, my boobs have gotten smaller! Sorry if that’s too much information. But truly, it’s a huge deal when you’re a runner and you’re a woman. Because it’s damn awesome to run with smaller breasts! Oh, how sweet it is. Actually, my whole body feels tighter and more responsive. Awesome.

These were treacherous conditions we were running in tonight. It was very warm today and yesterday and so there had been a lot of melting of all those inches of snow on the ground. This was particularly evident right before our stretch point where we had to get off the path, which was covered in an inch or two of crunchy water, and walk on the small banks of snow that provided some high ground.

When we came to the fork in the path, where the bike path splits with the running path, my heart trilled with joy. Oh, the running path was visible! It was traversable. Yes! Oh, it felt like coming home, that coming home feeling so often sought after, so seldom felt. It is strange to observe, writing this now, that the most at home I feel in the world right now is on an urban running path. I am coming to know that path so well: every curve, each bridge, even individual trees. I know where the bunch of trees with berries are, the honey locusts, the catalpa trees. I remember where I’ve seen particularly memorable runners, where the tai chi practitioners will soon return to, and where we’ve conversed with people. I have memories on this path.

Every day and every night it is different. The light is different. The color and movement of the water can vary drastically. Nature seems to find an infinite variety of textures to display. The way the lights of the lower city reflect or don’t reflect on the surface of the lake. How sometimes at night you can see where the sky meets the lake at the horizon line, but on nights like tonight they blur together in a hazy mist.

With all the melted snow, there was a lot of this crunchy icy water in all the low ground areas. We ended up going over most bridges, still trudging through snow banks. Ya-hoo! That is fun. There were a few harmonized shit!’s as Matt and I synchronically stepped into disguised puddles wearing thin sheets of ice. It’s our new spring sport, synchronized splashing!

Aside from the few fun and helpful snow banks, the earth had mostly thrown off her blanket of snow and frost. I felt exhilarated looking at all this earth and grass. What is different about the earth that was visible tonight versus the earth two weeks ago before the snow fall is that the ground is not frozen. It gives under my feet. It breathes. It is moist. It is waking up. The grass will soon turn green, the trees will bud, I will see birds and not be concerned about their sanity of trying to survive a winter in Chicago. I am a Midwestern girl. I do love the change in the seasons. I love witnessing this cycle of death, rebirth, and renewal. I understand why haikus are written about nature.

We were running fast. “It’s fun to run fast,” said Matt, “to feel the wind in your ears that forms tears in your eyes…” It is indeed. I was winded for the entire duration of our run, still able to converse, but I had to plan my words around my breath. It felt great. High stepping a snow bank, sprinting up a hill, long jumping over icy puddles; it felt great. My feet had felt a little stiff and at one point I stopped to stretch my right arch, but after that they felt fine.

Running has changed for me. It now feels good to push myself. It didn’t used to, not really. I used to enjoy a leisurely pace with insightful conversation. Now, I want it. More intensity. More sensation. That feeling of searching for something that you can only get by pushing harder. I’m not afraid of running, not afraid of running too fast at first and being too tired to make it home. I know I can.

This being said, Matt and I talked about running smarter, not harder. In massage school, we would receive direction, “without lightening your pressure, take the effort out.” So now, I’m running faster. Without slowing down, remove the effort. I imagined dropping my center of gravity, or whatever that is, the center of my self. It had been in my chest. I had started to develop trigger points in my left anterior scalene muscle from too much upper chest breathing. So I consciously dropped that center of my self down to just above my pelvis. And I felt it, not as clearly as two runs ago, but I felt it. That sensation of my legs turning under me, my upper body just kind of hanging out. It’s easier to breathe. My torso felt squarer. Is this running on chi? No more pain in the scalene.

Matt asked how I felt about running faster. I feel great about it. I also feel that if there are days when I want to run slower, I’m okay with that too.

So often in life we think things have to progress linearly. This time should always be better than last time, and next time should be better than this. Things should always move forward, should always build on what happened before. If there is not continuous growth, there is a problem. But life moves in cycles and waves. Not straight lines. There are days of progression and days of regression. Days of confusion and days of understanding. Weeks of builds, weeks of rest. This is running. This is life.