Listen … I am of fleeting attention. One minute I will say this is the greatest idea/hobby in the history of the world and think I should do it for the rest of my life.
Thirty minutes later say, ah, that was stupid.
So! My latest whim is to train for twelve weeks to run a simple 13.1 miles here in Eugene. The registration fee is $140, which is bonkers gross (and a reason I once flirted a little more than a year ago with an unsanctioned “race” that never came to pass on account of heat and wildfire smoke). The winter is a great time to run in Oregon. It’s chilly, wet, and the air quality is, by and large, pretty damn good.
Plus … the urgency to train for something has long held appeal to me. It adds structure to a day that can sometimes feel rudderless. Plus plus, my blood pressure has been red lining in that region of should-we-go-to-the-ER zone for quite a while. Perhaps more structured running will help.
I simply enjoy trotting along and talking to myself. I keep a pencil tucked in my ear and a Rite in the Rain notebook in my pocket if ideas strike … and they always do. I rarely jog to music or podcasts anymore. I like the soundtrack of my feet on the ground and my breathing. And when I say I talk to myself, I talk to myself. Outloud. As if someone were beside me. It’s bizarre, I know.
Today was Day 1 of a twelve-week program. It was about 30 degrees and I ran an easy three miles in 32 minutes. It was nice to see the frost on the ground and a menthol-like fog cloaking the scene, hiding the rolling hills to the north.
Anyway … a notebook is never farther than arm’s length from me and the Rite in the Rain notebooks perform as advertised be it rain or sweat. Hopefully I don’t get a nagging injury that keeps me from doing the work. At 44, this occurs far more than I care to admit.
