Satisfied

I began my run this past weekend with great anticipation. I'd been looking forward to it for almost two weeks. Slowly, I have become accustomed to the heat of another Texas Summer. And, for some reason, this time around, the heat has been my nemesis. Maybe, it's the lackadasical nature of running in the mountains where I can get away with far less hydration and calories. But now, I must endure the heat, embrace it, and learn to enjoy it. With only two hours into my run, I have quenched my thirst with the temperatures quickly rising past 95 degrees. I have started late for a weekend run and will not finish until almost 3pm.

The 80 ounces of fluids that have passed my lips are a distant occurrence to my body. It will take me almost another hour to reach my water cache and my bottles are now empty. I've gone to the extent of taking the tops off and letting every last drop fall into my mouth. The sun will be at its highest arc today. It's officially the Summer Soltice. I contemplate my decision on whether to turn back and be home within 20 minutes into the refreshing coolness of my apartment, or continue forward to the one- gallon plastic jug of rock solid, frozen water I placed under a tree just a few hours earlier. I continue onward knowing I will suffer until I reach my destination. The thoughts flowing freely through my mind at the moment seem eerily similar to forging onward in a race when the mind is screaming that it has had enough and wants to quit. But, I know, eventually, I will rejoice in my decision to continue and would have lamented a premature end to my run. At this point, I have to put total faith in the outcome and continue.

By the time I reached my water cache, the frozen jug had completely melted and, thankfully, still held faint remnants of the once solid mass. While only cool to the lips, it was refreshing, nonetheless. I would finish my run that day and was satisfied with my decision to continue. There came a point during my run that day where I stopped listening to my iPod. It seems when I need all my energy reserves to finish a difficult run, I cannot tolerate the passive task of listening to music. Instead, I find great solace in listening to my footfalls on the trail, the rhythym of each breath, and the occassional wisps of the wind as it passes through the trees. It's as if I must rely on some native, long forgotten need to return to the basics of running to fuel my spirit. I finish in the heat of the day as temperatures hover around 100 degrees. But, I don't notice the heat. Instead, I revel in the satisfaction of completing a run that just a few hours earlier seemed almost impossible.