Tuesday, July 28, 2009

thoughts while running, 7 a.m.

So we just had a storm, and it’s obvious from the sky that there’s going to be another storm. So this is a storm sandwich. Everyone should get to run in a storm sandwich.

I LOVE this song. This song has everything I need. I do not need any other songs. There are no other songs. It is just THIS SONG, ALL THE TIME.

The elastic on this sports bra is too tight. Maybe I should have been suspicious when I practically dislocated my shoulder yesterday while trying it on.

The first half-mile always sucks. It’s going to get better. It’s going to get better. It’s going to get better. Replay the song.

What if I were in a spaceship, and I was looking down on Earth, and thinking, that is so most beautiful planet I have ever seen, wouldn’t it be amazing to be down there? And then I would get to visit, and it would feel like this incredible privilege? Why can’t I just live like that?

I could live like that if I could listen to this song all day long. REPLAY THE SONG.

How is it that I feel less shock in my body while running in these flat sneakers and more when I’m running in my Asics that practically stick a pillow between my feet and the ground? I think all that “shock absorption” stuff is bullshit. My legs feel great. Christopher McDougall is right about everything. Why am I even still using those Asics at all?



Yeah, well, you felt this cocky one mile into your last run in flat sneakers, and by two and half miles your calves were singing a different tune and your shin needed ice, so cool your jets here.

Oh, YOU. Well, anyway. I think I’m going to turn into a minimalist running zealot. I'll monopolize dinner conversations by yakking about the biomechanical problems with heel striking, the “running man” evolutionary theory, and the capitalist conspiracies of athletic shoe companies.

That’s going to be really annoying for your friends.

Okay. Scanning for the big black dog. Here’s its yard. If it is there untied like it was on Friday and starts chasing me I am going to call the cops.

Don’t be an idiot. You are not going to call the cops.

I could. I have the station number right here in my phone just in case.

You are not going to call the cops on a dog. Anyway, it's not there.

And really, you should let the iPod go on to the next song. You like the next song too, you know.

OK, fine. But when the next song is done, I’m going to back to THE SONG.

Yep. I’m going back. THIS SONG RULES.

Was that lightening?

Yes. Which means you should probably—WATCH THE FEET.

Crap. I almost bit it there. I forgot that rain makes the sidewalks this slick.

It would really, really hurt if I fell right on my kneecap. Oh my God, I hope I never fall on my kneecap. I wonder if I fell with my knee all wonky, if my kneecap could pop right off. Then I’d never be able to run again and I would lose my mind.

Lots of people can’t run and don’t lose their minds. Stop thinking like a crazy person.

WHEEEE!!!! I’m almost at three miles and I still feel great!! I’m doing another mile. REPLAY THE SONG.

It’s seriously lightening over there. It’s going to start again and you’re almost home anyway. If you get caught in a deluge you will be really caught because no one is home to rescue you and there is no shelter past the overpass there. Plus you may be struck by lightening and that could kill you or cause brain damage. Get home. Now.

Now who’s thinking like a crazy person? I’m just going to do that hill yet, and then I’ll turn around. The storm isn’t close. That will put me over three miles. If I get this far and I still feel up to a hill, then goddammit, I’m doing a hill.

This really isn’t bad. This feels okay. I can do hills. I don’t have to be afraid of hills.

Except that you have no idea how to run downhill in these shoes. You are going to bust something.

Fuck off. I’m just going to haul ass and not think. Okay, here we come. Turn around…


Wow. OK. Breathe. Wow. Breathe. OK.

See? That’s exactly how I ran down hills when I was a little kid, in little kid shoes.

Whatever. You grew up in central Kansas, you dolt. There were no hills to run down.

There was that one in the park. I had at least one hill. And I ran. So shut up. Who are you, anyway?

Either your better self, or your worst. I don't think we've sorted that one out yet.

Maybe if I increase my mileage, you will go away.

I kept you from slipping on that wet pavement, didn't I? I have your back, don't I?


I don't know. REPLAY THE SONG.*

* “A Moment So Close,” Bela Fleck and the Flecktones, from Outbound.


Jessi said...

Laughed so hard about the no hills in Kansas. I found the lack of hills disturbing in Kansas.

katie said...

how in the world did you remember all that?

Jenn-Jenn, the Mother Hen said...

I laughed through the whole post as I read! :-)

Liz said...

So what kind of shoes do you wear to run in, then? (asks Lady Pronate of the Flat Foot)

Steph said...

Liz: I run in Pumas that are not designed for running. No arch support, no cushioning, no nothing.

Animal said...

Pretty funny stuff, Steph!

Rachel said...

Love this post : )