Ghost of my former self

Met the boys – Schneider and Davey O – for a 7-mile run last week, slightly longer for a Friday. This was a different loop for a quiet Friday, from a rural elementary school, one that took us on hilly dirt roads in breathtakingly beautiful horse and farm country in the town of Pleasant Valley. Reminded us all why we love Dutchess County so much. Dave O’s got a new toy, a fully functioning Garmin watch (his previous Apple running watch was about as reliable as bad weather forecasts), and now he’s on Strava (social media for runners), which means he actually cares about the run’s statistics because he posts them for all the world to see. As I said, this is a hilly run, on dirt roads (see Strava stats above). Hills are not my forte, but I did my best hanging with the boys this morning. In the latter stages of the run, the last long pull just took the life out of my legs – not an unusual occurrence, as I am the caboose of this small running group. Dave O took off – gotta pad those Strava stats! – and Schneider was nice enough to do a ‘mon back (circling back to collect the detritus of this slow, washed-up body). Schneider’s a great, kind soul and a good friend, but he also knows how to push my washed-up running legs. My breathing was still labored as the road flattened out. But he wouldn’t let me settle into some default, deadbeat 10-minute pace. He kept pushing and my breathing took a long time to settle. Finally, it settled into a steady hum fast pace, one in which I could talk to him in measured gasps. And then it hit me, like the Springsteen classic song “Glory Days.” This is what it was like. This is what it felt like, back when I was a regular runner, able to push at a semi-legit fast pace, indefinitely. On this day, the slightest incline would set my breathing back into the death rattle hill climb mess. But on this flat stretch, for about three-quarters of a mile, we were cruising, feeling good, talking a little. And I thought to myself: This. This is what it felt like. Like a part of me that had passed away of natural causes, coming back to life. How cool is this? It’s cool because I know I can’t do it anymore, for real, on a regular basis, in runs and certainly in races. I’m done as a competitive runner, been done for a while, and I’m completely OK with that. But to get a small glimpse back in that world, every once in a while, to rise from the ashes as a runner, even for a just a few minutes, felt really, really good. Good Friday started out with a good Friday run. Very neat.