Twice this week I ran, thinking to do a Running Commentary. Twice I found I could not. Then I ran today (Saturday), thinking Saturday Running Commentary, why would I not make a Saturday Running Commentary? At first I thought I would run my commentaries together (so to speak) and just make a post about This Week in Running. As I started to write (yes, I’ve gone back to re-write the intro after writing most of the blog) (just to insert a note about The Writing Process), I found myself saying quite a bit about Tuesday’s run. Not wishing to tax my readers’ patience, I shall just comment about one run today.
Tuesday I wanted to run into the Unknown Park. A friend told me it is Brookfield Park. I have called it the Unknown Park in this blog, because it is not clearly labelled. That is how I still think of it. These during the week runs are tricky, because it is not so easy to cross German Street at that time of the day (fourish). All the hills I know of in Herkimer are on the other side of German Street from my street.
This time I managed to cross it with very little problem. So I felt I was not off the hook for hills. After all, if I have managed to get across the busy street, why waste it? I sure did not feel like running, but I persevered. The park would be interesting. I had not run it since sometime last fall. I might even see some buds on some trees.
Imagine my chagrin on discovering that the entrance to the park was blocked by a chain with an orange triangle attached. There is a space where a pedestrian could sneak in, but I have to think of safety first. Suppose I ran into some kind of trouble (and you know I have a vivid imagination that can come up with all sorts of trouble)? Who would be likely to come along and help me in a blocked off park? I ran on.
Running up the hill to the college was clearly ineligible, so I went up the hill by Valley Health and ran around in the suburbs (I know they aren’t really suburbs, it’s just a handy term I use). As I went slowly up, I realized I am in no shape for the Boilermaker 15K. I’d better step up the pace of my training. And by step up the pace, of course I mean to continue my shuffling, overweight middle-aged lady pace (not that gender makes a difference), but more often and for longer periods of time. No more two days off between runs, maybe not even one day off. And I definitely have to at least walk on the days I do not run.
As I ran on, at one point I had a choice: turn left and continue on a level road or go up a steep-looking hill. I decided I would turn left. I was tired. Then I thought, “Step up the pace.” I would go up that hill! I felt bad ass. As usual the hill looked less steep when I got right up to it. It was steep enough. I made it up. Then I took a left turn to run by a sign that said, “Do Not Enter.” I felt bad ass doing that too. Oh, you don’t have to tell me: they mean cars not middle-aged ladies jogging. Don’t spoil my fun.
I felt quite pleased with myself for running and especially for tackling that second hill. I was dreadfully tired as the evening progressed, but that is the difference between running after a long day of work and running first thing after sleeping in on the weekend. As I often observe, one must persevere.