10 Miles WH (with hills)
Adjectives: calming, contemplative, enlightening, depressing
Weather: Incredible, mid 60s with a slight breeze in the dying sunlight
Best sight: Mississippi holding the setting sun
This run did so many things for me, and not a lot of them good, I guess. But none of them were necessarily bad. This run put things in perspective, and that is not necessarily a qualitative thing, and by that I mean it doesn't connotate a positive or negative. Specifically, my time on the road gave me time to doubt; I had just enough on my mind to depress me. My body was pumping out endorphins, but my mind was resisting this feel-good placebo as much as possible.
My worry list: Boston - do I really have what it takes? Kristin - am I going to be man enough to leave Minnesota and be that man she deserves? Journalism - do I have what it takes to be happy? Delt - how much should I get involved this next year?
Let's tackle this list point-by-point. Boston first. My legs hurt; they are sore and weak, and I don't think that they'll hold out through the training. I know that I will run until I can no longer do the plan, but my legs don't understand that. My heart is so strong, and the twigs beneath my butt just can't measure up at times. I'm afraid. Kristin next. I know that we will both have huge opportunities out of college. For me the easier route would be to stay in Minneapolis as a journalist where the market is good and the job will be easy to land. If I go to Madison I will have a much harder time landing a gig, and college is another matter completely. I'm afraid. All right, now journalism. I know that I have what it takes to be good at nearly anything, and I think I will be a good journalist. I have been unethical before and it has killed me, probably the second most haunting time of my life, and I know that I will never go there again. But do I have the killer instinct. Is it possible for me to make a difference and report news that matters? Do I have to play the game? I am happy with my challenging field, but will I always be happy? How much of me will it require? The questions go on. Finally, Delt. Like the University becomes a different place every year when 5000 people leave, Delt is going to be completely different next year, and I fear that it will take a turn for the worse without the leadership of the leaving seniors. I fear the big party, the slip of grades, the degradation of women, the absolute shit my friends will get into. Finally, I fear that I will get sucked into it, not by committing acts of stupidity, but by trying to reform them or keep the house the way it is when people want so badly to change it. Trouble awaits. I'm afraid.
Well, that's about all I've got on my chest. I'm glad I could expel it through my legs.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Day 2: 4 miles easy with four 100 meter sprints
She grew up in an Indiana town, had a good looking mama who never was around…
The air was pure today. The clear space between my eyes and my surroundings intensified color, and the minute leaves and blades of grass waved on the ground that I trampled on. It was a hot, delicious 6 pm run.
The four miles went the way I wanted it to, slow. I started slow, my knee bothered from sitting all day, and my ankle stiff from tapping. And although I sped up, it felt like I was going slower, more and more slowly as my body warmed up and sped up to my 8:45 pace.
It was a self-conscious run. I realized my problems as I preformed them. I stepped to far forward, I adjusted. I tightened up my shoulders, I let them fall back. I ran too fast, I slowed down.
I slowed down.
She grew up in an Indiana town, had a good looking mama who never was around…
The air was pure today. The clear space between my eyes and my surroundings intensified color, and the minute leaves and blades of grass waved on the ground that I trampled on. It was a hot, delicious 6 pm run.
The four miles went the way I wanted it to, slow. I started slow, my knee bothered from sitting all day, and my ankle stiff from tapping. And although I sped up, it felt like I was going slower, more and more slowly as my body warmed up and sped up to my 8:45 pace.
It was a self-conscious run. I realized my problems as I preformed them. I stepped to far forward, I adjusted. I tightened up my shoulders, I let them fall back. I ran too fast, I slowed down.
I slowed down.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
The Running Man: Week 1 Day 1
The end is such a scary place to start, everything is torn apart. I don’t know where to go from here. – Jason Reeves
Day 1: 7.5 miles with 4 x 1 mile cruise repeats and half mile rest in between
Today was a great day. Not just a great day for running, but a genuine, beautiful day. Today really could be summed up by the weather. It was light with potential, but the heat made it an endurance race.
The run was little different. The pace was wicked. I had laid out my track ahead of me, a formidable course that traversed the Mississippi over two bridges and included the notorious West Bank hills. The hills lived up to their notoriety, they were grueling in the stale 70-degree sun and the rising gas fumes from the early morning traffic.
Taken in completely, the experience could be stereotypical of my running. I ran hard, walked twice, waited for my running partner, gassed myself, went too fast, went too slow, doubted myself, and ran with too much confidence. It was like a microcosm of my life. I was so many things at so many times that the run can only be referred to by one name: the run.
All's I know is that I felt great, and I can’t wait for the second day of this grueling plan. Boston Oh Nine baby.
Day 1: 7.5 miles with 4 x 1 mile cruise repeats and half mile rest in between
Today was a great day. Not just a great day for running, but a genuine, beautiful day. Today really could be summed up by the weather. It was light with potential, but the heat made it an endurance race.
The run was little different. The pace was wicked. I had laid out my track ahead of me, a formidable course that traversed the Mississippi over two bridges and included the notorious West Bank hills. The hills lived up to their notoriety, they were grueling in the stale 70-degree sun and the rising gas fumes from the early morning traffic.
Taken in completely, the experience could be stereotypical of my running. I ran hard, walked twice, waited for my running partner, gassed myself, went too fast, went too slow, doubted myself, and ran with too much confidence. It was like a microcosm of my life. I was so many things at so many times that the run can only be referred to by one name: the run.
All's I know is that I felt great, and I can’t wait for the second day of this grueling plan. Boston Oh Nine baby.
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