Notes
I started out to do a moderate run. Part way through, I decided to repeat last Monday's workout. Near the end, that was cut short to be almost a repeat of last Friday instead. This was another run by feel with my Garmin attached to belt loop, safely out of the way to be thought of no more, almost. I ran the first loop feeling the various parts reluctantly remove their coat of rust and get to work. Still, I begin my reverie, enjoying the motion. After running down the boat ramp to start the second loop, a light rain starts beside me. I see the rings on the water among the grasses at the edge of the lake, though none land on me. This section is pleasant, everything working in harmony. This reverie is rudely interrupted by the seemingly loud crack of a rain drop landing on my glasses. Briefly startled, I shake it off and continue. Though some of the light rain now lands on me, I leave my head uncovered relishing the moment. A squirrel darts across the path and up a tree. With the husk still on it, the nut carried in the mouth is almost as large as the whole head. A few minutes later, the timing is just right. A bass leaps for dinner, hovering briefly above the water. It is as far above the water as the width of the curved tail. It splashes back into the water and all is again quiet except for me and the light thud of my Sonic Gloves on the asphalt path. A whisper from the left achilles reminds me a walking break will be coming soon, but not quite yet. A whisper from the right says it will be soon. Another run down the boat ramp starts a third loop along with the rain. It is steady now and this time the head is covered. Not long ago, I had wondered from whence I had the greater moisture, the rain or the sodium laden precipitate from within. The rain moves into the lead for now. My light jacket is coated with rain and, though zipped, I get a slight chill. The rain ends and so does the chill. The internally supplied moisture will triumph in this workout. I wipe sweat from my brow with my hand. Wiping that on my shirt reminds of my technological companion as my thumb brushes along the HRM strap. A later repeat of this action touches my little finger against the lap button on the Garmin at my waist. I had forgotten these were there. These touches remind me and I don't touch there again. Is this the third loop or the fourth? I'm not sure. I do not know how far I've travelled. I will have to remember and calculate. After planning to match Monday's distance, I wonder whether it is better to guess conservative and possibly get over stressed going too far or guess long and possibly miss a goal. In the end, I decide it doesn't really matter. The sun has set and there will not be many more laps in the light. On Monday, though, I did some loops in the dark. Hmmm. I keep going, down the boat ramp, start another loop, repeat. Then, my wife calls. "I thought you were only going for a short run." "What time is it?" "7:18" Okay. So that's about 1:45. Maybe I can finish this loop and do one more. 'I'll be home in about 20 minutes." But, that was not to be. The spotlight from the patrol car navigating along the path indicated the park was closed. I wave as I continue past it, turn right at the cut off, cross the street, and head home. This run is over. No switch was flipped. I did not find the elusive runner's high. But, I feel good, satisfied with the effort. Tomorrow, I'll ache.