So what's 15 miles? It's a mile for every minute of fame that Andy Warhol once said a person is entitled to, or it's a kilometer for every hour of the day, and to be honest, running it wasn't necessarily so bad, it just sorta takes forever to do. My soul is that of a navigator. That's right! It's possible an ancient mariner once occupied the marrow of my existence in a previous lifetime, and I've called on this from as early on as road trips in my teenage years as I earned my spot in shotgun, which believe me, was a highly competitive field, by being the most capable person when it came to pouring over maps, or just sensing the direction we need to take ourselves in. It's this preternatural onboard compass that always comes in handy whenever I pop out of a subway and need to regain my bearings quickly. Something I'm quite eager to test out when I hop over to Japandyland in a few more weeks. But in present day form, I put this skill to best use by plotting out fresh courses to run each week for my LSD.
15 miles was accomplished in three 4 mile loops, with a 3 mile end loop to round it all out. The weather was unbelievable really: snow mounds lined the listless lawns along the way that have slowly lost their luster from days of gathering exhaust from the sidelines of their suburban perch, and although the sky was overcast, the temperature still reached 50°F (10°C). I had just finished making a vegan pumpkin pie and set it out to cool, and realized I needed to get a jump on running if I was to be done by 4pm. SO I laced up my shoes, threw on the least amount of clothes I've worn running in easily over a month, and grabbed the nano.
I was band on the run...
The first 12 miles glided by like Disney On Ice. I was really quite surprised at how effortless it all was. I bit the tip of a banana at the start of mile 13, as a premature celebration of sorts, and right after I crossed into the 14th mile I was sluggish from there on out. I don't blame the banana. The banana was good. The banana was just what I needed at that moment. I guess the distance just finally caught up to me at that point, because up until that moment 13.1 miles was the farthest I had ever made my body move at one time, and now the rebel forces of lethargy were amassing against me. The final 2 miles were like running underwater: everything felt heavy, and there was resistance at every kinetic corner of my intention to push forward. I was hearing the little chirps from the murder of ravens nesting at back of my mind, "You could just walk. You've gone farther than ever before now, that in itself is an accomplishment." and the like. I'm sure if I wasn't in training mode I would have taken the bait and been hooked out of the water like the carp of my dreams, but this is the end of week 10. The gently buzzing pink and blue inert neon sign outside the hotel de Quitters blinks no vacancy at this point, so there's no room for them in this town. Goonies never say die and such. Plus, that ancient mariner in me, the one that thrives for adventures on the open seas, wanted to see what happens on the other side of 15 miles. So curiosity and determination were what kept me going. Not to mention that shuffle was once again playing just the right songs, I was so happy I had put the Buzzcocks' singles going steady on the nano right before leaving the house, because the song I Don't Mind perked me up right quick. Finishing off the 15 with one of my longtime favorite bands was Stereolab. Ahhh...I'm not sure what I would have done if I had went without the nano for this one.
When I stopped running my legs felt trashed. Running on them was so much easier than breaking into a walk. My body wasn't ready to change the routine into low gear, so I was quite wobbly getting up the steps to my apartment. It wasn't until this morning, when I woke up and my legs were sore, but still functional, that I discovered something amusing about my run...I looked down at my running shoes and decided that they were different colors. Something that, upon closer inspection, revealed indeed they were different shoes altogether. In my rush to get out and run while the running was good, I grabbed the appropriate grey & blue left shoe, and the inappropriate white & blue OLD right shoe. At a glance, they appear similar enough. But at anything more than a glance one would begin to wonder what the hell I was doing. Though I imagine, at this point in my running career, if I saw someone rockin' two shoes like that, I'd question what they knew about the benefits of doing it that I didn't. To which I would immediately rush home and Google: Two Shoe running.
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