Treadmill Miles

There is something about running miles on a fast moving belt. Your feet move in perfect rhythm and in the back of your mind you know one missed step could be very painful. There is something about feeling your foot hit the belt at the exact moment the water swishes in the bottle propped securely in its proper place. The music from the iPod blaring in your ears drowns out the sound of hundreds of people rushing to get their workout in and on with their life. You're running playlist is familiar and there is nothing wrong with a little air drumming, even if you are in public. There is something about having a stranger running next to you keeping their own pace. They don't know it, but you are racing them. Your eyes move to their screen to look at their speed and wonder how they have kept the 8.5 pace for 3 miles. Attributing their speed to their long legs is usually the most comforting thought. Regardless, you increase your speed, even just a little. If they can, well, so can you. There is something about gasping for air while watching the green numbers change from from mile to mile and immediately looking at your time, burning that number in your brain. New PR – finally! There is something about knowing your run is slacking, slow and tired and just increasing the speed. You know if the belt moves faster so will your feet. Really, they have no other choice. There is something about running your treadmill out of time, 60 minutes is the max, and then starting it over again cause you're run isn't over yet. There is something about knowing you stuck it out on a treadmill for 10, 11 even 16 miles because for most people that is miserable, even punishment. But for you the treadmill is a good place, a comfortable place. You know what every button means and what every flashing number is telling you. You have a plan for catching yourself should your foot actually take that missed step, and you've done it. You create your hills, watch your time and when you fall short - you sprint. You sprint to the death to get that 7th mile in before the belt stops at 60 minutes. You sprint because it's amazing to see 10.0 on the speed and feel every muscle in your body propelling your legs forward. You sprint, you incline, you jog, you decide, this is one run where you have full control.

Some say treadmill running is a lazy man's run. Sure, say it. But treadmill running is hard, it keeps you moving and out of the pouring rain. True - nothing can compare to a run outside enjoying nature and beautiful surroundings. When it’s just you, the sun, your run and your thoughts miles are serene - enjoyable even - that is ideal. But, aside from racing, nothing is more motivating than a crazy fast moving belt, a goal in your head, a ticking clock and giving it everything you have just to try and keep up.

That Running High

There are these days. Days when the it takes every ounce of willpower I can muster to get my running shoes on and out the door. Days when my mind and body can't seem to work together to find a rhythm and the thought of walking sounds like heaven. I skip through songs on my regular running playlists and only finding one or two on the entire ipod that give me any motivation. Usually on this day I feel a new pain in a knee or a foot that I hadn't noticed before or even a new blister forming. I notice every car, every person and every house but none can keep my attention long enough for me to forget that running hurts. I know I have things to think about, but my mind feels empty, my thoughts unfocused. I just want to be home. I look ahead at the hill in front of me and wonder if it got steeper, getting to the top seems impossible. My chest hurts, this has to be what a heart attack feels like, at least a similar pain. My feet pound the pavement so hard I feel every muscle fiber and fat cell in my body move. On this day I'm tired, my form is bad and my toe is breaking through yet another pair of expensive running socks. But I finish, I make it home, thank my body for pushing and hang up the running shoes knowing that eventually this day will be worth it.

Because soon enough, I will get today. Today my shoes go on and I can't get out the door fast enough. My steps feel light and my stride actually makes me think I am taller. My ipod is playing music and any song will do. Today I don't rely on the music for motivation, I don't need it. My mind and my muscles are working together. They're connecting and pushing each other, it feels powerful and effortless. I have already run 8 miles and barely noticed, it felt easy, good, inspired. Today I have power over my mind, I think through my day or listen to the lyrics of a song. I wonder what it means, I find answers. Today I look at the hill ahead and move faster, somehow the challenge is refreshing. I breathe in rhythm, my chest is relaxed. I'm on top of the world, anything is possible. This is the feeling, the runners high, they talk about. This is the reason they, I, you, push through the miles on days where putting one foot in front of the other seems impossible. Because for this moment, both the work and the pain are completely worth it.

Dear Car,

I feel it necessary to provide to you a few pointers in the interest of both of our lives. I am the runner that you freeze up around when you see me out of the corner of your eye. I am the one who wears headphones making you feeling like I am less aware. Trust me, I see you. Usually before you see me.

First and foremost, I promise not to jolt out in front of you like an absentminded cat or a deer that chooses to cross the second attempt to pass. I feel like me giving you this knowledge should put you at ease since you seem to be driving as if you are unsure of my next move.

I promise to look both ways before I cross any street and abide by all laws that apply. This means when I get to a light and the 'Do Not Cross' hand is flashing, I won't cross. I will stand there, even if it does add a couple minutes to my run (secretly, I am welcoming the break). When the little man on the cross walk starts to walk though, so will I, but not before looking both ways. I don't trust you either. It may just be a good rule of thumb to look at the sign before you turn. Really, it's bad for everyone when you begin to turn and then SLAM on your brakes the second you see me standing on the side of the road. And for heaven sakes, do not honk at me.

If you wouldn't mind, please keep the crosswalks clear. I understand how stopping behind the white line is difficult, but when you don't leave me enough room in the crosswalk I really want to slam my hand onto your hood when I pass. Keep doing it and I just might one of these days.

Don't panic when you get to a four-way stop and you see me there. Chances are I have been standing there for a minute waiting for my turn to go. Again, I promise not to jolt out in front of you. I will wait my turn, just like I do when I am in my car. Please whatever you do, don't wave me across. I know you're just trying to be nice, but I don't trust that you have taken into account all the cars around you. The guy behind you is honking because he can't understand why you're not going and now I really don't want to cross in fear that he just might go around you and hit me because I am holding up traffic. Don't wave me across. I will wait for my turn.

I am still unsure what they best way is for me to run through a roundabout when you are there. If it is ok with you, I think I will steer clear of them all together.

Respectively,
Amber