Why We Run

I was flat out unmotivated today, that’s a fact, it was my first day back at work after vacation and I was not enthused…I had picked up 2 more reports in my absence and I could forecast the specter of a landslide of work coming my way as a result of the “do more with less” philosophy permeating my organization.

I wrestled with these thoughts all day.

In the mist of these thoughts a close friend stopped in to tell me that he was done, done with the job, the schedule, politics…He was done, and he was washing his hands and moving on.

He apologized for leaving…

No apology necessary.

My wife graciously packed my gear this morning to help steer me in the right direction, yesterday we ran, played, and stomped our way through a 5 mile trail run.

But that was yesterday, and today is today.

Unmotivated to the last…

My indecision followed me out to the parking deck at the end of the day, and then a strange thing occurred. The slightest ray of sunshine found its way through the depressed concrete to kiss me on the cheek as I loaded up to leave.

A subtle hint I surmised as I returned to the bathroom and fumbled through changing out of my suit, I pointed my car north, & six songs later, I was moving down the trail with stinging sweat in my face, my legs burning to adjust to the hills and grades that have been so neglected out of the necessity of recovery.

Work be dammed, and indecision put aside, I run because I can, because it makes me feel alive.

Return of the trail run

On a whim we decided to strike out on a trail run late in the week, the idea actually devolved from plans of an overnight backpacking trip that became less practical as the impending weekend came into focus.

Here’s how this sort of thing plays out in our household…

It’s Friday evening and I have just jumped off of the lawn mower after getting a head start on the weekend chores and the sound of a beer cap hitting the deck is interupted by a verbalized stream of consciousness.

“Let’s go for a trail run tomorrow!!!”

Unaffected by my outburst, Ash thumbs through her cook book & without batting an eye responds with, “OK”.

She’s used to my last minute ideas and knows all too well the ridiculous things I ponder while in the “Zen” of grass cutting.

But where to run???

Ash was inclined to run the river, so James River Park was the destination of choice …

Another curious thing seems to happen when plans are made on Fridays.

Another bottle cap hit the deck as I made my standard proclamation that I wanted to be out running early…

Plans be dammed, and Friday nights forever to be the reason why, we crossed the emergency access bridge and headed down the trail at around 10:00am, certainly not the early birds who’s mission it was to get the worm…

Needless to say, by 11:00am it was getting hot, not unbearable, but a definite nod to the Virginia summer lying in wait.

As we bounded down the path we passed scores of folks out enjoying the well groomed trails of Buttermilk & North Bank under a blazing sky.

We would log 7 miles or so on the flowing single track with the hum of the Hangar 1 Vodka Blimp keeping time.

As a side note; it was the first real distance I had put on my ankle since the scope, it felt weird, a little sore, but no worse for the wear.

The "mysterious" Hangar 1 Vodka blimp hovering above