Baggin' It

For the last marathon, the training simply went all too smoothly. I barely missed a mile of the training schedule and was able to re-work the schedule when weather or life intervened. It seemed as though last summer and fall it nevered rained a drop for a run. The preparation for this spring marathon has been different altogether. Nature routinely conspires against me with repeated challenges of will. Last night served as yet another challenge. The evening's run started with a light mist which grew into a decent rain and at mile 2.5 out of 10, downpour; it was another event of complete saturation. I stepped in a pothole and lightly twisted an ankle. I thought maybe I ought to bag it and head home. Just do five and worry about the 10-miler tomorrow. But, no. Fortitude. Commitment. These have become my new mantras. Across one road where a new subdivision was recently built, a river cascaded across my path that was unavoidable. Did I say complete saturation? Now I was beyond complete. My cup overflowed. Bag it. No. About 6 miles in my ankle started to bother me (the one I hadn't twisted). But I didn't stop. I had to gut it out and finish, regardless of how it inhibited my running form (not smart, but I felt okay). My effort was rewarded as the rain and mist stopped. The air turned to a moist stillness and quiet when I had one of those moments where I feel peacefully along, winding my way through the brilliant spongey darkness. That's why I run.

Tonight, I bagged it. I was supposed to run 5 tonight, but decided to rest up, letting whatever this ankle thing might be run its course. Maybe I'll get up tomorrow morning and stumble through the run so I don't miss the miles. Or maybe the rest would do me good.