Run, Run, Run: Just Over 9 Miles Today, and Two Weeks to Seacoast

This morning, Jared and I slept sleeping an extra 45 minutes--the bonus of the day's planned mileage being with your other half is the undeniable wonderfulness of knowing that you CAN sleep that extra little bit--there's no one, outside of your own bed, that's waiting on you.

We were on the road by 9:15, walking the half block to turn left onto Mass Ave, where we began the run, Jared with a NetFlix mailing packet (28 Weeks Later) in hand, running in wait of the first mailbox.

We gamboled left down Rindge Ave, passing Jared's school, banking left again* up and over the Alewife Brook Parkway. A third turn (at last a right!) took us onto Concord Ave, merging into Fresh Pond Parkway, from which, for a short bit, we could see the fenced-off pond in question.

From there, we continued on Fresh Pond clear through to the Charles River, pausing periodically at stop lights or as needed to stretch. (I continue to be besieged by some light RAP early in the runs, though it shakes itself off by mile 3, and Jared is committed to ensuring his knee remains healthy and ITB trouble free.) At the Charles at last, we realized we'd achieved a nice, comfortable clip, with both of us running happy and strong. Around Harvard Square we evaded the Sunday morning pajama-clad couples, bicyclists, and fair-weather runners (flailing arms and legs everywhere) by crossing over a bridge to the Boston-side of the river, where we met with sites both wondrous and astonishing.

The first interesting avian sight was a giant stork-like bird, sitting stock-still just below the path. When I grabbed his shirt to point, Jared told me was a blue heron. The second sight of interest was another bird--a very large duck that seemed to have no head. (It was sleeping with its head tucked under a wing--it peeked up at us inquisitively after we stopped to stare, as if daring us to continue with our rude interruption of its well-earned rest.)

A quick dash up the Mass Ave bridge ramp (one of my favorite parts of running over there is speeding around the corners as though I am on a track), another pause to stretch some late kinks, and we were bolting off down Mass Ave toward home. And I do mean bolting--somewhere around MIT, we realized we'd picked up the pace. Significantly.

By Harvard Square, we were turning, dashing, angling to race around, in front of, next to the assorted denizens of Cambridge in a Frogger-like pattern. As we sprinted through the assorted square of Cambridge, we both realized we'd let loose the throttle, and were pushing and pulling each other along at full-stride--no small thing when you take into account that we combine into 12 feet 2 inches of running bodies.

At long last, Jared noted he could see Starbucks, a ten-minute walk from home, and the pre-planned end of today's run. We increased our speed even further, giving up any futile attempts at conversations as we pounded the pavement harder still, leaning into the pace, loving the pace, and secure in the happy knowledge that we wouldn't have to maintain it much longer.

Panting, legs aching, we skidded to a stop in front of the coffee shop. I noticed the eyes of a coffee drinker look through the glass windows at us, as we high-fived, and guzzled down Gatorade and water from my fuel belt's pockets. As we stood in the long line inside, I looked around and thought to myself that here were dozens of people who were just starting their days. I thought to myself again what a pleasure it is to run, what a perfect, perfect thing it is to feel the strength and speed of the human body, what a truly joyful thing it is to push and pull with someone else to challenge limits that only exist in the mind. And what a delicious, heady thing it is to treat yourself to a slow walk home with a hot coffee in your hand, next to the one you love.

Two weeks now to the Seacoast Half Marathon, where Team "Rock(y)ing the Coast" makes its debut. One more long training for Jared and I, with 11 next week--the longest he'll have ever run. Keep a hopeful, lucky thought out for us, that Jared's knee holds strong as it has so far, and that we have a great race in Portsmouth on November 9!

*They say two wrongs don't make a right. But three lefts does.