The past several mornings have broken just the way you would want them to if you dreamed of moving to the mountains from somewhere hot and flat. The air has been cool and relatively dry, giving us the feeling that everything is fresh and clean. The way, according to Willie Nelson, cowboys like it. Because of this — and because I had been more or less up since 3am after calling the law on the boys next door — it was possible to leisurely venture into the day with a morning run. Often by this time of the year it is too warm by 8:30 to run with anything more than an ambition for not having run earlier. But not so this morning. All sins of sloth were forgiven as I went down to the river to pray. That prayer being said in the form of moving feet and disassociated mind.
The plan is to run a marathon again this fall. It is a little hard to imagine right now that some of the long runs will even be possible — much less enjoyable. Some where between 16 and 18 miles is a sweet spot for me, a great distance to run. Beyond that has been a dark and stormy land, but it seems like I have to head there in order to encounter the pieces I enjoy along the way. Hope and denial being what they are, I think this time can be different too. Somehow I will manage to get all of the things I enjoy out of marathon training (discipline, fitness, a wonderful emptying out) without the negatives (injury, illness, the bizarreness of running 20 + miles on one’s own). Rak sanuk thook tha nat — there is no pleasure without repentance.