The Sweet Spot
You don’t hit the sweet spot on runs most of the time, or at least I don’t. Usually something hurts or is at least uncomfortable, or it’s hot or cold or dry or wet weather, or your sock has a lump or your brain decided to be totally mental — you know how it goes.
I expect most runners feel the way I do: few runs are horrid and most runs are good; you feel good that you did it, you were happy with the pace or it accomplished a training goal, but the perfect run seldom happens – and doesn’t need to. I run to run, not to find perfection in myself, my run or the world. If I got up and ran then it was a good run. For me the perfect run is not the one I PR’d or which had no pain, for me the perfect run is the run that feels like I am flying floating in a world of golden sunshine, running without effort in a world with which I feel at one, completely present to each moment because I let go of the run and just began to be. Last time I had a run like that was last November so it’s not something that happens often.
I’ve also been putting on some extra miles in my training and most runs lately have been on legs that are tiring out pretty quickly, which means I’m really not expecting Nirvana to come knocking. Yesterday I putzed a bit in the house, got a little work done while waiting for the sun to come up and then headed out in the pretty day — and immediately I was in the sweet spot. I was at a mile before I felt I’d even touched pavement. I knew where I was on my course but stared at my Garmin in disbelief, it felt I’d been running for a minute. My feet seemed to have feathers, floating just off the ground; I felt calm and centered, my form felt great and my stride was good; it was sweet head to toe, and it was sweet the entire run. It was the run we all pursue but only occasionally catch.
Since everything about the run was perfect I found that I had plenty of time to think of things besides pace, pain and gasping for air.
~ Uranus. Does anyone in the scientific world really think that kids are going to start pronouncing it yur’-uh-ness? I bet kids still giggle at he-she-it too.
~ how dumb was I that I never understood why he-she-it was funny until I was in my 20′s?
~ for that matter, how dumb was I that I never understood why Uranus was funny until I was in my 20′s?
~ 2, 4 & 5. When I was little some numbers had colors and personalities. Two was my favorite. It was strong, self-composed and secure. It was blue. Five was like the star of an old movie, the strong silent type that always looked out for the underdog. I can’t remember what color it was. Maybe brown or green. Four, however, was just a red bitch. Plain and simple, she hated two and liked five and that was the end of the story. I never did figure out why.
~ the teacher had no clue either
~ and why did the teacher look at me like that when I asked?
~ how bad does something have to smell before a dog is offended?
~ why, when my cat finds a smell offensive, does she look at me? Has she been anywhere near her litter box lately? I know who should be offended and it’s not her.
~ and what is a smell anyway? Is it atoms that stink?
~ baby carrots at the grocery. Did someone really pick all those itty-bitty carrots? And then did they peel every single one of them? Or did they pick bigger carrots, shave off the excess, put that in the bag of coleslaw mix and just pretend the remaining part is baby carrots?
~ and, yet, I continue to pay extra for the baby carrots
~ if you can’t put metal in a microwave then how is it that they all come with a metal wire rack in the middle?
~ do the waves really stay inside the microwave? Do they see the door and say – oops, that’s it, end of the line?
~ if so, then why do radio waves get a free pass?
~ I bet someone in the world CAN touch their nose with their elbow.
~ if people do spontaneously combust, does Karma take nominations?
~ when I was in kindergarten and the Vietnam war was escalating and we had bomb drills (oh, yeah, now you know I’m old) did the teachers really think if I hid under that itty-bitty desk and the bomb landed on the school building and then the bomb, the floor above me and the roof above that floor all came down through the ceiling, that somehow that itty-bitty desk was going to remain intact and protect me?
~ if the teacher did believe that, why was I being taught by idiots?
~ Two was me. Four was also me.