Running, Toward Something New

Micro and macro perspectives in Mile Markers

I’m in love with the 10K. It’s Goldie Hawn to my Kurt Russell, a partnership that, with a little luck, has legs beyond several months. And a fun daily goal, even if I decide against the full distance.

For a stretch two years ago, I was running 8-9 miles a day, so this revised regimen isn’t as taxing and has delivered greater benefits. The right amount of exercise at the right time that results in some damn clear headspace. Saving 30 minutes every 24 hours multiplies, as in the casino, and I never lack for interests to fill that void. Classic case of less is more.

When you find something naturally, the discovery injects a feeling of elation because the outcome wasn’t manufactured. It’s not artificial or processed like Pop-Tarts, though they can also spur joy. Haven’t kept my vices in check as much as I should’ve of late, life screaming hello instead of just saying it, but to make this evolution in cardio better: My times have been very good. Consistent. Progress displayed in digital form, then reset for the next day.

Maybe it’s the combination of cool, end-of-summer mornings and the pace of my mind driving my feet faster. Whatever it is, I call it another sweet spot.

The winter offered cold to bitter temperatures where running wasn’t the healthiest decision. Or possible, so I turned to mall walking. Which was a positive experience. Escalators and stairs and tiles rather than hills and inclines and pavement. Fluorescent lighting vs. a sun muted by double-ply wax paper. By March, I was itching to rebuild a normal routine.

Still had to deal with rain, and lots of it, but between watching the radar to determine a window and dancing between the drizzle, I went light out of the box. Three miles. As leaves thickened their coverage and morphed into a green mosaic, with branches extending their reach, distance increased. A new pair of sneakers provided extra spring to my bounce. I was happy at five miles, give or take some tenths, and maintained that for a couple of months until the usual set in.

Body cried for more.

I’ve never run an official 10K race. After almost five years of dedicated physical activity, that might need to happen. Competitive me will soon appear now that I’ve said it, no doubt, but I’m content pushing myself around the lakes. Same loops, different order, a happy but also sad moment as I land on our welcome mat and end the stopwatch. The cooldown is further therapy.

One step at a time. One foot in front of the other. Similar but not identical—while I’m not big on using idioms to illustrate a point, both apply here.

The micro aspect focuses on pacing and sequencing. For a drummer who gets into the fine detail of a story or a spreadsheet, this is where the proverbial rubber meets the road. Each breath has meaning. Rhythm, though I can’t remember finishing a run and thinking that a single step, or a small segment of steps, was the linchpin to a successful outing.

The macro is all endurance. Physical and mental. For a tennis player who thrives on long matches, long songs, and long relationships, this is the crossroads of accepting the challenge you know we need and desire. Breaths connect. Melody and harmony, in your strides and your splits and your noggin, and you can pinpoint the stretch that defined the day’s run with clarity.

I’ll evolve to another distance, whether shorter or longer or much longer, because change is good. Important. It deserves caring, dedication, embracement…those are skills that must be honed. And when change is part of your discipline and makeup and you blend that with the symbiosis of “one step at a time” and “one foot in front of the other,” you wind up running toward something new every day.