The sweet warm earthy smell of cattle manure may seem an odd reward at the end of a long run. For a person training to run a marathon which is roughly 10 weeks hence, 5 miles may seem an odd length for a long run. Given the scant amount of health or time available to me over the last fortnight, 5 miles shuffling through the Valley of Love and Delight seemed like more than a person could rightfully demand.
Being sick sucks, and especially that much more when being sick means not being able to breathe. Breath, I have found, is a critical element in the training regimen of a marathoner. Not to mention that being sick takes energy which would otherwise go to running. In addition to which, working 13 hour days can take it right out of you. Plus totaling a car, providing aid and comfort to a family member, blah blah blah. The point is not that my life is harder than yours, the point is that all these things take energy. I am aware of this in a way that I was not say, oh, five or ten years ago.
So, this morning as the rosy fingers of dawn stretched across the Land of the Suwaree, I surrendered to the reality that I would not run double digit miles this day. To do so might risk injury and would certainly invite disappointment. My biggest obstacle in running marathons is my own confidence. A desperate attempt to make up for lost time right now will only lead to a desperate race in November. I still have plenty of time to train for a realistic goal, but it remains to be seen what that goal might be.
The fortunate thing is that I am still running. This means that today, in the cool of the morning air, I got to be in one of my favorite places on earth. The last late growth of summer bent the young trees’ crowns down to genuflect as I passed. Small spots of early fall color were visible in the canopy, though no leaves had yet descended to make the path treacherous. A trout fisher, a bird watcher, and I shared the stillness of the morning. And as I finished the 5 miles in a surprisingly spry 43 minutes, across the fence came the fertile waft of manure and the wink of a little brown maverick.