Running blinking into the sunset glare, on my way home the other night… A workmate cycled past me. Giving me a start.
“Were you intending to run home?”
Came the witty question.
“Yes, but I was hoping it would go a bit faster than this.”
I gasped in reply.
He slowed and wobbled somewhat.
Can I give you a lift? he asked next. Clearly concerned at my struggling appearance.
Are you going to repeat an inspirational quote to help make my spirits soar? I gave him in dry retort.
A big trademark grin spread across his face as he realized, that under the painful look I was mostly ok and the appearance of a shambling mess was entirely self inflicted, so he sped on his way.
The same feeling repeated itself yesterday when midway through a 25km event called the North Range Traverse I found myself swapping positions with a speed walker, I would pass her running downhill only to have her pass me back when I slowed to a walk on the uphills.
Each time we would swap a few encouraging words or witty remark. And all I could think was. I was hoping, I was a bit faster than this.
The event itself was very cool. And the scenery amazing. Some of the hills were long slow grinds, but there was enough variety both in scenery and track type to keep the brain distracted while the miles rolled by.
The first 3-5km was mostly uphill, but once at the top the track slid along the range top through 3 different windfarms.
The noise made by each windmill was best described as a wooshing. Each farm had a distinct rhythm and the combined noise reminded me of our time spent monitoring Nyah’s heart beat in the weeks leading up to her birth.
This memory and remembering what motivated me to begin running again in the first place, powered me through the mid stages of the run, even when I was struggling to find any kind of rhythm.
The end came eventually after a 6 kilometer downhill section, 3hrs 4mins but I don’t think I looked at my watch once.