Well, first thing’s first Welcome to the new and improved Will Run For Glitter, where everything is exactly the same except for the header. Great. Now, let’s move on, shall we?
I’m very much pleased to report that, after six totally sedentary days brought to you by the virus that wouldn’t die, I’m back. I’m running. I’m working. And perhaps most importantly of all, I’m not totally, 100% miserable.
While I was exhausted and achey and in no shape to work up a sweat (that didn’t involve my fever breaking) last week, by Monday, I was getting pretty dang antsy. I even contemplated even the tiniest sweat session for my mental sanity — a yoga flow, a short run, anything! I really just wanted to move.
So of course, I took to twitter to ask The People whether I was ready to work out, and the answers I received were… well, thanks for your honesty folks. Not a single one of you told me that it would be wise to move a limb, and so I heeded your calls. I chilled the F out.
Thankfully, putting another day of rest in the books Monday enabled me to get back into my sneakers and onto the road on Tuesday. And Wednesday. And Thursday.
With the voices of the masses still stuck in my head, I knew not to push it right out of the gate. Tuesday’s run was kept below four miles, but I still managed to check out my long lost home of Central Park. Man, it felt better than good to be home.
Maybe it was the fact that it was my first run in a week, or maybe it was the energy fueled by a feast of squid ink pasta and artichoke the night before…
…but no matter what the reason, I was just happy to be running, soaking in the sun and breathing in the cold autumnal air. Conscious not to overstep my bounds, I decided that I wouldn’t complete my typical lower loop lap, and instead cut my route short by running southward down the mall back to the 5th Avenue entrance. On the way, I saw this guy. If bubbles don’t make you happy, then I don’t know what does.
By Wednesday, I was stoked from the previous day’s success and had planned on logging at least five miles. Life doesn’t always happen as you plan it though. Especially when you forget to set an alarm clock.
At 7:07AM, I cuddled under the covers as I opened my eyes and began to contemplate my options. I had already slept too late to complete the five-mile route I had promised. I could wait until after work to run, or do yoga, or stop by the new cycling studio that opened down the street (I have a free pass there, after all). But I know myself, and knew immediately that none of those options would do. By the end of the work day, I’m a mess. Getting myself to do anything that requires me to be on my feet and without a glass of wine is a challenge. And so instead, I willed myself to leap out of bed and go through my morning routine in double-time… teeth brushed, pee, hair up, sports bra on, eye drops in, headphones on, sneakers laced, on the road.
By 7:20, I was running, and I had about 45 minutes to get ‘er done.
Wednesday’s run took me around the neighborhood since I was pressed for time, so instead of Central Park, I ran to Gramercy Park — just slightly, seriously smaller than its massive northern counterpart. And yet, it’s adorable and provided the views and the motivation I needed. 3.5 miles later, and I was home, satisfied with what I had accomplished.
Finally, by Thursday, it happened — my first five-mile run in FOREVER. Of all three runs over the past few days, Thursday’s happened to be the hardest. It wasn’t the distance; five miles is nothing I’ve never covered before. And it wasn’t the weather; 37 degrees is actually the warmest it’s been all week, and the cold has never scared me as long as I’m properly dressed.
At the end of the day, I think it was just the timing. Had I run five miles on Tuesday, I’d have been doing so on fresh legs. Three days and three runs later, they were losing a bit of steam. Not a big deal, really, it’s just a reality of the game.
Fortunately, Central Park provided enough light and beauty to make those five tired miles fly by.
The streets and paths were practically empty compared to the previous few weeks with marathon training ramping up and coming to a head. From here on out, it’s really winter runners only with the exception of unseasonably warm mornings. I hate to admit it, but part of me enjoys this lull — it’s calming in a way.
By the time I got back to my apartment, I was exhausted, but I was happy. Happy that I had finally logged five, and happy that I got an awesome high-five from a runner down 5th Avenue. So that made my week too.
We can only go up from here.
Do you notice that the streets and running paths get quieter during the winter months in your city or neighborhood?