My Run

Do any of you say this?  "I have to get my run in."; "I'm going for my run now."  "Yes, I'd love to take a weekend trip away, but when am I going to get my long run in?"

The simplest substitution of "my" for "a" is quite a big deal and it wasn't until this weekend I really gave it any thought - and how much sense it makes.

I rarely feel like I actually own anything in my life that isn't considered completely material.  Yes, I own the caramel-colored boots I am wearing today and it's complimenting outfit.  Yes, I own my car, other tangible things. And I say things like "my job" or "my marriage" but the factors that go into both of those don't mean I truly own them.  My job, for example - I have ownership in that I fill that role, and it's up to me whether or not it grows, progresses or is a dead end.  However, my employer, Cornell University library, owns the position in that I could, relatively speaking, be terminated at any time for any reason (hopefully very doubtful!)  Same with my marriage, or friendships since those are two way situations where the other matters.  I mean, I may love my husband to death, but should he not feel the same, I'm not owning that (again, very doubtful, I know he loves me to pieces!)  So, while I still can attach "my" to these wonderful things in my life, there should really be "my*" as I can't take full responsibility in most cases.  The other factors in the way contribute to the success or failure.

My run?  I really feel like it's all mine, though.  It's the one part of my day where I determine how it goes.  I can go out there, shuffle along at a "smell the roses" pace, or push like I am in a race.  I can do it solo, with a group, inside or out.  I make the final decision of how far I go - making sure (most times) that my Garmin registers the exact mileage I want.  It's my meditation, prayer, and for the control Type A in me, gives me a great sense of ownership and pride.

It also explains a lot when I can't do my run why I get upset.  If I'm injured, there is nothing I can do.  Or if the weather is bad enough that my life would be risked being outdoors, like the hail/lightening storm of 2009 in Towasentha Park (another story, another time!), my run gets robbed from me.  When my run does not happen, it's not really mine anymore because it does not exist.  But in the motions of the present, during my run, I have completely assumed control (Rush reference).