One Mile at a Time
Learning to run again.
It’s 7:04 AM and I’m crossing the street. The weather is perfect. It’s cool but not so much that I’m shivering before I get going. The sun is slowly rising behind the trees and it’s turning the few small clouds in the sky brilliant shades of pink and orange. I’m outside, it’s early, and the day is beautiful. I haven’t gone running regularly in months and I want to remedy that. My goal isn’t a difficult one. I want to comfortably run a mile in under ten minutes.
It’s 7:05 AM and I’ve reached my starting line. I look down at my watch. Tap, scroll, tap. A countdown begins. 3, 2, 1, and I’m off running. Except I’m really running, probably faster and more vigorously than I need to be. I haven’t done this in months and as it turns out, I have no idea how to pace myself. I run along for about 0.15 miles before slowing to a quick walk. It’s my first day of this, I think to myself, and I went about a seventh of the way before stopping. That’s not too bad, right?
It’s 7:07 AM and I’ve been keeping an eye on my wrist, watching my distance slowly tick up. When I get to 0.20 miles I take off again. This is the first time that I notice how my feet are striking the ground. I don’t know what it is, but I know that I must be doing something wrong. Things just feel off. This time I only run for 0.10 miles. That’s alright. So far, I’ve run a quarter of a mile and it’s only been a couple of minutes. This is fantastic! I decide to walk the next 0.2 so I can catch my breath and refocus. This works out nicely because the 0.5 mark happens to be right before my planned course takes a turn.
It’s 7:10 AM and I’ve been walking at a slower pace to catch my breath and clear my mind. I know that the best thing for me to do is to not overthink how I’m running, to just do what feels natural. My stretch of walking takes me up to the 0.50 mile mark and to a turn in my planned course down through a wooded area. I’m halfway there, I can do this. I take off running again and notice I’m still trying to go a bit faster than I should. The trail takes a downward slope and as it levels out I slow down just a bit to be at a more sustainable pace. This stretch lasts about 0.25 miles.
It’s 7:12 AM and I’ve slowed back to a walk. I realize how hard it is to read my watch while I’m running and I wonder again if I’m doing something wrong. I feel as though I should gliding a bit more, bouncing from foot to foot rather than striking the ground, causing my whole body to shake. I push these thoughts out of my head again, telling myself that the stability I’m looking for will come with practice.
It’s 7:13 AM and a glance at my wrist reads 0.75 miles. I know I’m not going to hit my goal this time. I tell myself that it’s okay. It’s my first time out in months. I’m out of what little practice I once had and I never expected to hit it the first few times anyway. Not giving up completely, I take off for another 0.10 miles.
It’s 7:15 AM and I’m at 0.90 miles. I slow down to a casual walk, deciding not to push myself. All things considered, I did better than I expected. It’s time to catch my breath and wipe my brow.
It’s 7:17 AM and I’ve just finished walking out my mile. I wasn’t that far off at all. With practice and better pacing, I’ll probably hit my goal in a few more attempts.
It’s 7:19 AM and I’m walking back towards my apartment. As I walk along my path a noise catches my attention and, looking to my right, I find myself a few feet away from two small deer. A mother and child from what I can tell. They’re almost silent, almost completely still, like an exhibit in a museum. I stand still, staring back at them for what feels like an hour until they hear another runner coming down the path and decide it’s time to move along.
It’s 8:30 AM and I’m sitting down to write this. I’ll jot down what important details I can remember now. I’ll look back at my workout data and put times to occurrences. I’ll think about how I felt along the run, what stood out along the way, and I’ll come back to write what mattered to me.
Tomorrow morning I’ll wake up early and I’ll brush my teeth. I’ll put on my runners and I’ll string together a playlist as I push myself out the door. I’ll walk along, enjoying the fresh morning air, until I get to that same starting line. I’ll take a deep breath and I’ll run. It might not be better tomorrow. It might even be worse. Nevertheless, I’ll get up and I’ll run. I won’t run because I’m training for a race and while I’m hoping to get in shape, I’m not expecting this to be my golden ticket.
Tomorrow morning I’ll wake up and run because I want to. I’ll run because I want it to be a part of my life. I want to witness those beautiful sunrises. I want to feel that connection of mind and body. I want to strengthen that relationship between myself and the earth. I want those experiences of coming across two deer, silently grazing along the trail.
I don’t aim to run so that I can feel better about myself when I tell others. I want to run so that I’ll simply feel better.
