This morning, I woke up, knowing that a run wasn’t going to happen easily. I’ve felt this feeling many times in my running career (which spans over 10 years and boasts of many accomplishments- I have a perfect record of waving at other runners, for instance.) But I made it out the door, which, some runners will tell you, is half the battle. The other 99% of runners will tell you that the 1% are full of crap- the battle is comprised of finding time to run, keeping up with shoe expense, convincing your wife you need a new pair of shoes approximately every 2-3 weeks, battling injuries, shoelace malfunctions, cars that weave, cars that hate, cars that expel an unworldly amount of exhaust, the inversion,
the weather, the running parters who don’t show up, the ones that do and won’t shut up (me, sometimes), blisters, missing toenails, missing socks, missing the glory days of a 6:40 minute-per-mile 10K, the injuries, the icing, the constant advice from running friends, running strangers, elite runners, barefoot runners, new runners, experienced runners, Runner’s World, and non-runners. But yeah, I suppose that sometimes, half the battle is turning the door knob. My three year-old daughter, Lucy, can turn that door knob.
But I did make it outside. And then I took off at an alarming rate. Trying to slow myself down, I told myself, “Nathan, ease into this.” “Nathan,
what are you trying to prove?” “Nathan, it’s Monday- we’re justgetting started, here.” “Nathan, stop addressing yourself by name- it’s weird.”
But I got out there. I greeted the week by running, not jogging. Vigor replaced a
casual nod to health and I made some good time. Even a 10 minute barefoot last mile didn’t hurt my numbers too bad. If this is a good omen for my week, the Sharks just might win a game one of these days.