The Difficulty of Easy Runs
Out the door by 5:20 this morning, knew for once I had plenty of time to run.
I took the Acme loop out to Wynnefield Ave., one more little extension of this venerable run that makes it an even 10 miles - well about as even as is possible. It also circumnavigates the dreaded Lebanon hill.
One word to describe this run was lonesome. Not solitary... lonesome. It is pitch black at 5:20 on a January morning, and it stays dark. Temps weren't too cold, but there were patches of ice on the streets of West Philly and Powelton Village that got my guard up. By the time I hit Fairmount Park I knew I would be taking this run easy, and just settled in. Something about the North Concourse, it just goes straight seemingly forever. Few street lights, and the moon was much farther away. It was just me running, seeing if I could last.
Its an odd feeling. When I'm alone like that its not a physical thing. I was not running against a clock or against a hill or against anything but dark thoughts seeping in from the surrounding darkness. Going up 59th St. just before Lancaster Ave. I can look east over the old Acme food distribution center and on to Center City. It looks a bit like Oz, and some of the prettiest Philadelphia sunrises I've seen came from this vantage point. Today when I got there there was barely a glimmering of dawn. Only when I cut through Carroll Park was there enough light to where I could see without street lamps. This was a turning point, as my pace quickened and I realized I would soon be home.
Finishing the run I felt as I had run a gauntlet, a long night's journey into day. Dylan says the darkest hour is right before the dawn. And maybe that's the hardest part of this early morning thing, pushing myself to go gentle into that good night. Yesterday, today, and again tomorrow and the next day. But tomorrow I'll take it out on the watch as I try to muster some speed up MLK, and Friday I'll run at least part of the way with Erin. Today it was just me, and darkness.
10 miles in 92-something.
I took the Acme loop out to Wynnefield Ave., one more little extension of this venerable run that makes it an even 10 miles - well about as even as is possible. It also circumnavigates the dreaded Lebanon hill.
One word to describe this run was lonesome. Not solitary... lonesome. It is pitch black at 5:20 on a January morning, and it stays dark. Temps weren't too cold, but there were patches of ice on the streets of West Philly and Powelton Village that got my guard up. By the time I hit Fairmount Park I knew I would be taking this run easy, and just settled in. Something about the North Concourse, it just goes straight seemingly forever. Few street lights, and the moon was much farther away. It was just me running, seeing if I could last.
Its an odd feeling. When I'm alone like that its not a physical thing. I was not running against a clock or against a hill or against anything but dark thoughts seeping in from the surrounding darkness. Going up 59th St. just before Lancaster Ave. I can look east over the old Acme food distribution center and on to Center City. It looks a bit like Oz, and some of the prettiest Philadelphia sunrises I've seen came from this vantage point. Today when I got there there was barely a glimmering of dawn. Only when I cut through Carroll Park was there enough light to where I could see without street lamps. This was a turning point, as my pace quickened and I realized I would soon be home.
Finishing the run I felt as I had run a gauntlet, a long night's journey into day. Dylan says the darkest hour is right before the dawn. And maybe that's the hardest part of this early morning thing, pushing myself to go gentle into that good night. Yesterday, today, and again tomorrow and the next day. But tomorrow I'll take it out on the watch as I try to muster some speed up MLK, and Friday I'll run at least part of the way with Erin. Today it was just me, and darkness.
10 miles in 92-something.
posted by seebo | 8:54 AM
1 Comments:
Nice post... thoroughly enjoyed it.
Post a Comment
<< Home