Remember that time I said I’d play Friday by ear, and decide whether to run 7 miles or not when I woke up? Yea, well after a very tame Thursday evening that consisted of 1 glass of wine over dinner with a good friend, I woke up exceptionally early on Friday morning with the urge to frolic in the park. So frolic I did.
The sun was still rising when I left my apartment on Friday morning, wearing nothing but short shorts (men’s, rolled up), a v-neck t (Gap Body, old and tattered), and obnoxiously lime green socks that clashed perfectly with my sneakers. I offer free fashion advice too, in case you were wondering.
When I initially started my run, during that first mile or so up to the park, I wasn’t feeling all that hot; my head hurt (despite the lack of hangover), my body was tired (maybe because it was 7:00 or maybe because I’ve done some form of physical activity for a billion days in a row now), and I had already broken a sweat by the time I hit 42nd Street. No, this was not my finest start, but it wasn’t my worst either.
Fortunately, by the time I hit the 72nd Street entrance to Central Park, I was feeling mighty fine. I was immediately overcome with the wonderful smell of spring, and it seemed that finally the scent of the trees were overpowering the malodorous stench of horses. Thank you, Mother Nature.
I was really feeling it once I turned north to run the counterclockwise loop of the reservoir. Cat hill was painful as ever, but I managed to maintain a steady pace and chip away at the incline…
…until I made it to the dirt path.
I know running on soft, non-concrete surfaces is supposed to be far better for your feet, knees and everything else, but I can’t help but feel as though my body is actually working harder with the resistance. And while the reservoir was beautiful as ever this morning…
…with a sunrise to the northeast…
…and a canopy of flowers that made the loop ever-so breathtaking…
…I was otherwise ready to get back to pavement after that 1.5 miles or so of gravel. The views were totally acceptable there too.
The clarity of the air was refreshing after yesterday’s fog-filled morning. Apparently, you really don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone, because I was more ecstatic than I could have ever imagined to see the buildings rise up before me as I completed my last hill on the west side.
As it often goes, I was more energetic during the last mile of my run, and I practically flew down 5th Avenue. I’m starting to realize that I tend to hit my stride much later on – even as far as mile 4 or 5 or 6, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to start running 7 miles or more every day. At least I hope it doesn’t.
As for the weekend, I’ll spare you my usual spiel about how I want to run both days. This weekend will be different; it has to be, or else I think I may go crazy. Instead of my typical double header, this weekend, all I want is to run 1 day with Noah so that I can check out the upper west side views. Then, I want to rest the other day, which will probably be Sunday – the uglier of the two days, according to Accuweather (yes, I’m one of the 4 people who still use this antiquated service).
My constant lethargy is starting to worry me – almost more so than my toe tendinitis and my achy Achilles. Whereas all I’ve wanted while training for the D.C. 10 miler is to run really strong – and for a while I was – I’m also starting to crumble with only 1 week to go. In short: I’m tired! I’m so, so tired. Hopefully, a solid weekend of rest, relaxation, family and good food will help to recharge my battery. And if not, there will always be other races. I’m still crossing my fingers and laces though.