Legs of Lead

A combination of mild exhaustion and a hectic schedule made yesterday a forced rest day. That wasn't a problem, because I know that I can exchange Thursday and Friday and still get in five days of running. This switch, however, comes at a cost: if I'm going to run on Friday, I have to do it in the early morning before I go to work. (If I run Friday evening, I'll not have enough to rest to guarantee a good run on Saturday morning.)

I arrived at Valley Green around 6:00 this morning. I was surprised, and heartened, to see so many people already out. One of the unexpected satisfactions I've derived from running has been the fellowship one experiences with other runners who are getting up early or running in the rain or other conditions that might discouraged people for getting outside for other reasons. You pass another runner in these circumstances and the two of you flash grins at each other that seem to say, "You, too! Great to see you out here!"

At 6 a.m., the skies were overcast, and the air was a bit cool--probably in the low 60s--and slightly damp. I had expected that the day of rest would lead to an easier run, but that's not what I experienced. Instead, for the first mile or even mile-and-a-half, I felt as if I were running with lead legs. I'd hoped to run four miles this morning, but I quickly decided, due to lingering feelings of exhaustion--twinges, really--to stick with a three-mile run. The latter half went better, but I was still concerned that I'd have a lousy fourth mile. I also knew it would be helpful to my wife to drop the kids off at school this morning, so, at three miles, I called it done and went home.

Thereafter, I began to feel lousy. I was hungry (for good reason), but I also had a headache come on (against which Advil was a poor adversary). In the future, I'm afraid I'll have to precede these early morning runs with, say, a half bagel and a little bit of coffee (a common prelude to my weekend runs), and that means I'll have to get up even earlier. It's a small price to pay.