Today was a good day. I ran. I worked in the garden. I fixed an electrical outlet that's been out of commission for months. I even had time to make dinner and now I'm posting a long over due note on See Mike Run. Sipping a red something. Yes, today was a good day. Some days are like that, yes?
I joined a group this morning for a 10 mile run, Grant/ Forks return. It was a comfortable pace, 10 and 1's, slower than I've been training for all summer so it was difficult to find my stride, but I did and it was good. The 10 and 1's felt odd, but familiar like an old friend. The friendly chatter... inviting, the leaves crunching underfoot...hypnotic, the gorgeous colours -well- gorgeous, the brisk wind embraced the senses. It was lovely and peaceful and sad. Time slows in the fall. End of season. No goals other than the usual... Hypo, Cop's, and a choice of any number of Spring Mary's. I'm thinking of Ottawa in May, or Fargo, or Manitoba or all of the above, none of the above.
Fall is kinda sad, not sure why. It's the most pensive of seasons? Piling wood, cutting back dead growth in the garden, hunkering down for what's sure to be another long and cold winter. Winter running is embracing and so wonderful and yet somehow it seems foreboding. I need to learn to run in -40 again, how on earth do we do this?
Today I logged my 1111th mile. It's not a huge number. It doesn't mean much, it's not even a prime number, it's just a number and yet it represents so much to me personally. It represents conviction, passion, friendships -such dear friendships- passage of time, suffering, intense pain, intense joy, the indescribable joy of crossing a line. Yes, 1111 is just a number, meaningless in itself, and yet to me, today, it's a good number.
It's a good day to be alive,
Mike
