Rain on my parade.

I start out my run in the rain today and these portly droplets are a nuisance to my eyes. My clothes are getting heavier with each step and each step is just whooshing water right back at me. My form is getting sloppy with each grudging swing of my arms and I beg the question; “why?”

Immediately I imagine being on the track, bad weather and all. That’s where my heart is. At once, I am filled with this sense of urgency and importance.

Run tall! My shoulders swing back, my belly bows out, my knees lift higher and I feel lighter. My wrists drop and are like a pendulum swinging by my hips and my elbows are at a perfect ninety degree angle. Each relaxed and effortless movement has its purpose.

The thick rain transforms into an ominous misting in the air. I start to miss the rain.

-JD

Fogotten not

Missing the mist that parted when legs cut slick steps on that damp day, weather gone until the next run meets that specific precipitation. Wistful for wet days, not that of a deluge, but the foggy days with occasional sprinkles making the air so palpable… that is what I long for. Around the corner they wait, I know, but the desire is there now. One day soon, it will to be washed away, slipping into the grayness and leaving me fulfilled.

I got 99 problems but a kid ain't one

Sometimes when I go to the track there’s some sort of a peewee tournament of lacrosse or football, soccer perhaps. These little athletes have even smaller brothers and/or sisters who can’t sit still on the sidelines and who tend to gravitate toward that bright red mondo surface. Since I don’t have kids this gives me a view into their ways as I normally don’t think about them.

When I see these cute little tykes chasing each other around, I understand the primal need to run. I understand that we all have an urge to race one another and to see who’s faster. Who’s better. Stronger. I get that. What I don’t get is why the hell these kids or parents don’t understand what I’m doing. I’m putting so much effort and force out there. I’m actually working out and working hard toward a goal.

I’m not just flitting around the track for shits and giggles. There’s actually a science to what I’m doing here and now. The lines that mark the track and the numbers on my watch mean something. Accuracy, mechanics, breathing patterns, timing; they are all a part of this crazy lady’s workout. There’s a method to this madness and I don’t know why but for some reason lane one is very popular today and I intend to scare some kiddies out of it.

-JD