Last week I went to Northern Montana for my Son's wedding. While there, I stayed in small montana town that looked more like a single granery. You accessed it from a nearby exit that to this day must still make the Montana Dept. of Transportation ask, "why?"
I ran on a gravel road that began right where the exit ends. Some rocks were loose, some were frozen in a sharp side up position that would make the most sadistic Lego brick feel embarrassed. Much was snowpacked. It was 17 degrees with a wind chill factor of where the hell is FEMA. I Ran in aquasocks which is my favorite minimalist shoe mainly because I get them from china at eight bucks a pair.
Caballo Blanco gave a wonderful philosophy for running: run easy, run light, run smooth. The mechanics of running under this philosophy are items I am studying as I run. I expect to journal my experiences under Romanov's Pose running techniques in the future. This all falls under run easy, and run smooth.
Today, I ran light. The sunrise just started and I ran, under the orange horizon of what is the start of the great plains. I ran looking at the scenery. I only looked at my steps when my arch discovered a biting rock. It was fairly often, but my feet reacted quickly and with a fair amount of forgiveness.
Before too long, I realized I had run too far. I began my return by imagining ways to describe the beauty of both the scene and experience without sounding like I was writing a porn novel.
When I returned, an hour had passed. I have no idea of the distance. None of it mattered. I ran like I have never run before, not in terms of speed or strength or distance, but in terms of meaning. I ran light, lighter than I ever had before, but hopefully not lighter than I ever will again.
Yesterday, I ran on my own roads, outside, in the dark and in the cold. I have been banned from running barefoot at the gym so there is no point running there for now. If I have to run shod, I can run on frozen surfaces just as easily.
I exceeded my best distance on my uphill/downhill path. I ran light. Perhaps not Montana sunrise light, but light nonetheless. I focused on the pull of my foot and not on the landing. The landing took care of itself just as promised. I watched the full moon and lights of cars heading my way and felt the lightness of the run.
I felt my body react to more distance. There is pain from injury and there is pain from fatique. Injury pain must be addressed immediaely. Fatigue pain is what the brain tells the body to create so it will stop. I'm beginning to understand the difference. I felt no pain of injury, my side stitched as my body wanted me to stop. I adjusted pace and ran. The stitch left.
Today: It's 21 degrees outside, a veritable Montana thaw. When I finish my run, I feel the sweat freeze. There waiting for me is my wife. She suffers from ankle pain due to multiple fractures and a dislocation that occurred ten years ago. She has six pins in her ankle. She wants to run with me but doesn't know if she can. I take her through the first set of Romanov's drills for 15 minutes. Then I have her run barefoot on the ice cold road for 25 yards. She can feel the difference in the strike. Running barefoot in freezing temperatures is a concentrated Pose running training tool. She feels good at the end and is suprised by it and asks if we can do this again in a couple of days. Who am I to resist.
Running is love.
Blog entry posted by rb2001, Jan 27, 2016.
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