Finding the Rhythm
On Friday afternoon I had an acupuncture appointment on 16th street. When I emerged from the old building on the tree-lined side street, a perfect sunny Spring day greeted me, so I decided to walk the twenty-something blocks back to my office. About a block and half later I was walking behind a petite woman with her hair up in a bun, a black tank top, and some faded gray sweatpants. There was a slight gap between the end of her sweatpants and her sneakers where you could see a glimpse of her ankles. I also could see the woman’s back as she walked with her headphones perfectly tucked into her ears.
As I walked behind her, I could see her rhythmically tapping her leg and then rotating her arms in this choreographed way. As she was walking, she would balance herself at moments on one toe but still keep walking. The muscles in her arms would flex, and the bones in shoulders would protrude. We walked together for four or five blocks before she stopped and turned to cross the street and head crosstown. I never even saw her face but I could still see her repeating those same steps and practicing in this most elegant and unnoticeable way, unless I had taken the time to notice. She was finding that rhythm, and she was repeating her process, over and over.
Earlier that morning I had woken up like I do most mornings, with the sound of my alarm clock. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and tapped the top of my alarm clock to shut it off. On that morning unlike the last couple of weeks the unrelenting winter this year had let up. My window was open, and I could feel a pleasant breeze coming in through the window. At 6:00 am you can actually hear birds chirping in New York despite all the rumors of the constant cars blaring by. I went through my normal routine and decided to go out for my usual route — out to the park, two full loops of Astoria Park and back. That run is about six and a half miles. On Friday morning the sun was out, there was hardly any wind, and I could feel myself sweating within the first mile. I noticed something in my second loop, my legs felt a little sore, but it was a familiar soreness and not the pain of the injured hamstring I have been dealing with for what feels like an endless period. 7:43 per mile and I never pushed too hard, trying to stay relaxed in the way a runner understands.
The next afternoon, I went out a little later in the afternoon. After a good night’s sleep and a healthy breakfast, I took the couple of steps outside and for the first time in a while, I was standing out there not out of obligation and without hesitation. It was cloudy by around sixty degrees with barely any wind. I took my first couple of steps, and I felt it in my legs, that familiar feeling that I don’t think I have honestly had in probably close to a year. I hadn’t planned a distance; I just figured I would go as long as I could go. In those first steps, I restrained myself, knowing that I wanted to be out there. By the time I hit mile 5 I knew I had 10 miles easily at what I would expect my regular pace to be. When I finally got back home and heard the watch blurp, as I slowed to a walk and glanced at my watch- 7:39 per mile. I felt right.
Today, my legs again were a little creaky, but the injury still seemed to have faded away. And when I finished that same regular route I had done on Friday, I looked down and saw 7:36 per mile. My shoulders relaxed, I grinned (maybe I even smiled), and I finally knew I was healthy, and I could say it out loud. Just like my tiny dancer, I was back in my routine and rhythm.
