a gnarly run - gnats and all

As I stepped out the door for my run this evening, I was thinking, I’m ready for a gritty run. I’ve found that it takes some measure of self directed trash talk to walk those 50 yards out to the stretching post across the street at the park. That walk and the first mile or so is my least favorite part of the run. In part, it’s due to the fact that no matter how many times or how many miles I’ve run that particular week, I’m unsure if I’m fit for all the factors that go into a good run. Did I stretch enough? Do I have enough energy? The most pressing question is usually do I want to do this? or do I have the will power to persevere? Normally I let these questions stay in the static of my periphery and get on with the business of running, sometimes by means of the aforementioned hype.

This time though it turned into more than hype, in fact, it seems it was a self-fulfilling prophecy. First of all, I ended up running 7.5 miles; more than I’ve done in a couple months at least. I also ran in the evening, and had the sun go down on me, which is not so bad unless part of your path takes you through unlit woods. (Call me a coward if you will, but only after you’ve tried it yourself). The worst of it was the gnats though. For a good quarter mile or so, a cloud of them filled my breathing space like rednecks fill a stadium during a monster truck showdown. At first I tried to wave them away with my hand, but they were too formidable for such a feeble strategy. I took on gnats like a novice swimmer takes on water. Next I created a propeller out of my sweat towel, but that was a big energy zapper and still proved ineffective. Finally, I just held the towel over my mouth and nose, and while this stifled my breathing, I had no other choice. Eventually the satanic scourge disseminated, and I pushed on through to the end of my run.

In spite of the gnats and perhaps because of them, in the end, grit is good because the alternative can lead to apathetic indolence.