un-Blah!

The air is so clear in this deep morning predawn darkness. I can almost make myself believe I could reach out with my hand and pluck one of the stars out of the sky. Each point of light seems so close. The air is crisp, yet, not cold. I see my favorite Winter constellation, Orion.The deer are in their usual lackadaisical temperament. They hardly notice me as I pass within feet of them. My breathing is slightly labored. My lungs feel sore as I inhale each breath of air. My heart rate is higher than normal for the easy effort and my legs feel heavy. The air is still and the only noises I hear are occasional hoots of owls and the overhead noise of early morning airliners climbing to their cruising altitude as they depart Austin. Eventually, I feel some dampness on my skin as my shirt clings to my skin. An unexpected result, considering the slowness of my movement. I can see the first faint signs of dawn on the Eastern horizon with Saturn hanging high above. I continue, as the sky continues to become lighter, and look, once again, for Orion. But, I can't see it. Thankfully, Sirius and Aldebaran, which flank the upper and lower portions of Orion, are shining bright. And, eventually, my eyes refocus and can see the three stars denoting Orion's Belt. It's interesting I had to see the very bright stars before having the ability to see the more faint stars of Orion. It was there all along.

That has been a repeated process I have gone through each day this week. Obviously, I notice different things on each run, but I have been more sensitive to everything I experience lately while on my runs. It feels good to be running, again. I went eight days without running. For me, that's a long time. But, for those recovering from injury, it's inconsequential, although the inability to run definitely is not. I need to run. Yesterday morning, it was very windy and cold. While walking to my starting point on the road, I turned around and head back for home. I didn't want to run in the cold and wind. I was concerned it would delay my recovering from being ill. But, something made me stop my regression and walk back to my starting point on the road. A spot where a discernible line runs from curb to curb across the road. A place where old asphalt marries with new asphalt--a delineation between light gray and black.

All of my running is, primarily, done alone. I miss the camaraderie of running with a group. My running is purposefully slow-paced, but considered fast by many. Yet, others run faster and much harder on most runs. Regardless, my training right now is about moderation and building a solid foundation. The faster and harder runs will occur later and, thankfully, my strength of patience is keeping me true to my course. Although my races have been determined, there is still the flexibility for change. The marathon will be used as a building block to gain speed and efficiency. And, those skills will be used to make final preparations to return to base of the Mongollon Rim in Arizona. Everything, afterwards, is flexible, dependent on a complexity of occurrences yet to happen.

This post is running focused, but my life is not. What I have, however, experienced and pondered over the past few months is a metamorphosis. My running is becoming integrated into my daily rhythm. While my running from an outsider's view may appear to be a definition of most of what I am, internally, it is only a small part of a larger focus of my being. It's not much different to me than breathing. But, it is a necessity. Possibly, it's not as much about running as it is about being outside and experiencing a meditative type of release. It's a peaceful place and one that I am very thankful to have discovered.