There are some runs where I am alone. Others, I am in the company of great friends. The latter of these runs are easier to accomplish because I love the camaraderie among all of us. We talk between our breaths of air, complain about the hills, plan out our next races, thinking aloud about what’s for dinner that night. It’s just like sitting at the bar with your posse, except your burning the calories off as opposed to putting them on. Bonus!
However, there are the dreaded alone runs – those boring, quiet, long slow runs that seem to never end. Most of the time for me, these are my short runs during the week (3-4 miles) and I am fine being by myself for just that half hour. This weekend, I had to face my long run with just me, and in all places, farm country. Instead of short 4-house long blocks in the city that I could seemingly breeze past, this time I could see literally a mile ahead of me, making the distance even more drawn out as I trotted past hay fields and cows looking at me like I’m some crazy person. If you think non-runners give you the judgmental looks as they pass you, try getting the same from a cow whose sole purpose is to hang out in a field, yield milk, beef and leather for expensive purses (sorry PETA). It’s amusing.
Knowing I had my 6-7 miles ALONE this weekend, I mentally prepared for it. I told myself to go out, run wherever the road took me, go slow and remind myself I wasn’t in a race. This was a training run, no need to go fast, no need show off and try to keep the sweat at bay. It was me, the road, the cows and cloudy sky. As long as I didn’t tell myself to stop or turn back at mile 2 – and how tempting that is on a long, lonely run. I could do this.
I set out in the muggy but cool air, wearing my running belt and Lake Effect Run Club shirt, therefore the group was there with me in spirit. I ran the slow first mile to Greg’s farm, stopped to say hi as he was repairing yet another broken piece of farm equipment. He told the miles doesn’t count if I stop. Thanks honey. Like you know!
Back on my merry way, about a mile in, I hung a left at the end of our farm’s road and decided to run far as I felt like it, knowing there would be a side road to cut over and make a loop back home. Maybe it was the mental preparation I spoke to earlier, or the hidden slow decline (gotta love those!), but it felt great to be out there alone and for once, I was content with it. It was quiet, very quiet, even at a later-than-usual 11am hour. There was no music. No facebook in the palm of my hand. No TV, and people wise? Other than having a few cyclists pass me with a “good morning”, there was no one around to say anything, encouraging or otherwise.
Think about it: how often does that happen? We all say we would love some peace and quiet from the kids, the spouse, from work - but when we do get even those 10 minutes, we always end up engaged in something else pretending that it is solitude, whether it is the TV, or internet. Even reading a book, you are lost in another world, distracting from yourself. It’s perfectly welcome to unwind with this way, but I would argue solo running is on another planet. Forget about pace and mileage, it’s the only true time I personally get back to basics – earth, mind, body.
Now that we’re all feeling zen, I should mention that, oddly enough, thinking all this while running helped me go further in my run itself. My strides felt just right – not too long and not too short, and before I knew it, I was at a part in the road where I could see the lake over the green valley. My house is situated a good 6-8 miles each way between two finger lakes so to find that cut-over road was overlooking the lake from afar was majestic. I ran the next mile and half, continually glancing over my right shoulder to view the great Cayuga Lake.
The next turn back to my house was an expected gradual uphill, and my quads started bitching, but it didn’t matter (it’s a training run!) Next, a light rain shower fell upon me, but one must deal with the elements when you’re 3 miles on foot from home. I started to forget the rural landscape around me and went into pep-talk mode to get me home up the incline. Just get home!
When I eventually arrived at the final destination 9.6 miles later, I felt nicely exhausted, damp from the rain and sweat, but calm. I had survived my first solo long run in months and did a ton of thinking. Scary, to hear your own voice and nothing else for 91 minutes, but where else would I think of blog post ideas? Or day dream about lands far away? Salivate at the thoughts of a French-pressed coffee as a post run-post-shower treat? Everything is much clearer on a run, and as the t-shirts say, it’s way cheaper than therapy.
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