Race

I'm finally getting my running mojo back.

Yesterday, I went out for a short run. My back was feeling much better, and though there was lingering stiffness in basically all of my hip/upper leg muscles, it wasn't painful. I set out for my walking warm-up in light clothing. It was a gorgeous spring day, and I'm excited to start wearing my running skirts and tank tops again soon (though by July, expect me to be whining non-stop about the heat).

I started my run at the usual spot, and set off at a decent pace--not slow, not fast, just taking it easy to take stock of how everything felt. I've learned how to listen to my body and I know very well when I can push and when I need to take a step back.

About half a mile in, I saw a silver-haired gentleman turn onto the road I was running on, across the street. We ran for a bit like that, across the street from one another. He pulled ahead of me a little.

Well, this just won't do. I don't care how much longer he's been running, I don't care that I've been slow of late. I decided I had no choice but to beat him to the next major intersection, come hell or high water.

I picked up my pace and gained some ground. Before long, I couldn't see him in my peripheral vision. Feeling triumphant, I chanced a glance over my shoulder, only to find he was close--too close. I sped up a little more.

As I approached the three-quarter-mile mark, I was working hard, and yet, still, he remained too close. So I worked even harder, flying as fast as my tiny legs will go, pumping my arms, focusing on my breathing. A grin spread across my face, even as my stomach began feeling a tiny bit queasy in the way it does when I push myself to go faster than the last time. I kept an eye on my opponent, flying over the sidewalk, up a slight hill, my smile as wide as my face, and short huffs of laughter escaping me. My legs burned, but they didn't want to stop. My body celebrated this simple gift of being able to run, to push harder, to keep going even when it's hard.

I reached the intersection and turned left. My opponent continued straight down the road, and I slowed to a more reasonable pace to complete a mile for the day. I'm not entirely sure this guy wasn't racing me back, or if he was completely oblivious to my little game. Either way, I won...but it hardly matters that I beat some guy to a corner.

What matters was reclaiming that absolute joy in running.