March mileage, week 2

36 miles for this week.

Sunday: 8.5 mi, 70 mins
Monday: off
Tuesday: 7.2 mi, 60 mins
Weds: 4.75 mi, 36 mins
Thursday: 6 mi, 54 mins – felt sluggish (and it showed)
Friday: off
Saturday: 9.2 mi, 78 mins.

With the exception of Thursday, I’ve been clocking in the mid- to low-8 minute range, which I like. Wednesday was tempo; I meant to do 5 but my costochondritis was flaring and it felt like a mini heart attack. And today I was supposed to do my long run, 13-14, but I ended up hanging out with friends in the afternoon and being productive instead, then headed home, so my run was under the stars. I’ll do 14 tomorrow; I’m feeling good.

– from today’s run –

There is something so delightfully otherworldly about running under the stars, especially if you start when the last few rays of limp sunlight are trickling over the horizon, pale pinks and reds and dusty purples. The world slowly fades out around you and you become acutely aware of your stride, your footfall, your breathing, the swing of your arms… and then, without your realizing it, that too all fades away and you are left in a twilight haze. Tonight, a strong wind blew from the west, gusting across lake Michigan all the way to our little abode. But it wasn’t the bitter wind of December, January, February that we’ve come to know – it was strong, yes, but it was humid and warm. Spring was blowing in mightily, and it smelled of damp earth and rain and spring storms and light.

That wind blew away the clouds and the whole of the sky was bared above me, sparkling stars and planets unfathomable distances away. Shy at first, but as their numbers grew they grew bolder and brighter and clustered in constellations, the traces I’d learned in the sky as a child here, that children across the globe learn though the names may change – the big dipper, its little companion, orion’s belt – and a few planets shone brighter than all the rest, mars rising red in the west. I paced unworriedly below the universe expanse and saw my life in perspective – terrifyingly insignificant, and consequently, absolutely free. Unlike the sun, if I expire, nothing terrible will come about, though some may grieve. I will not change the course of the stars or the fate of galaxies. I am free to roam about this small rocky orb and do as I please with relatively little consequence, though that is no excuse to wreak havoc on this earth as some apparently believe.

I gazed up to the sky, looking up into a crystal ball of the past, and flew.

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