In The Books

Another year of running has passed from ardent toil into luxurious lethargy. It's been a good one - in fact, I don't believe I've ever not been happy with a season when it comes to a close. There's always more to be accomplished but that is not any reason to turn down the opportunity to rejoice in what was done. My coach in college said something along the same lines, with a good deal more succinctness: "Be happy, but not content."

I didn't have any wildly astonishing breakthrough races this year, just a series of Bubka-esque infinitesimal improvements. I did have a few serious clunkers - the 4:35 mile during indoors was pretty breathtakingly bad. I'm still not sure what was up with that, but it didn't prove to be a pattern, so no worries. I also managed to run a pretty lackluster 3k coming off the flu, and a handful of mediocre 800s.

I also dropped my mile PR by 5 seconds, and my 1500m PR by .05 seconds. Heyo!

It's a little strange how the activities of our lives can provide the structure to our years that are not seen or felt by our peers not involved in those same activities. Certainly for students, up until graduation, there is a natural ebb and flow to the year; that summer marks the end and fall the beginning. Running tends to follow that same schedule, merely because it is convenient to piggyback upon the collegiate races and line up with the summer championships.

But it's also invisible to the people I work with, my family (somewhat), and just the everyday person on the street. My year has just ended. My labor is done - I reaped what I sowed. What cycle are they in the midst of, what unseen endeavor has just ended? It could be something as mundane as the NBA finals just finishing, or far more. I don't doubt the possibility of the latter. It's often that we are so taken with who we are and our place in the scheme of the world that we disregard the chance of another's importance. It's probably necessary to our survival (once upon a time, physical...and now just emotional and mental) to put ourselves foremost.

At the same time that it is necessary to have some time off to rejuvenate both my will to kick other pasty guys' asses in a combined physiological and mental prowess wankfest, I also have almost no idea what to do with myself when I just yank the one run a day out of my schedule. Usually that marks the height (in my mind) of my productivity during the day. You're actually out there just...improving yourself. I'm not sure that can be said for too many other things I do during my day, but maybe I'm being a bit too hard on said other things.

Right now all I've seriously considered doing for the next two weeks or so is:
* changing the oil in the RX-8 (I should do that after I finish this...)
* getting the unholy dent in it estimated / fixed
* taking said vehicle to lime rock or another track to try my hand at autocross (why not?)
* reading all the books in my towering stack
* picking up some new jams
* resumption of any & all wildly unrealistic creative endeavors
* complaining about how my ceiling fan does not work while I sip on lemonade and ponder future aerobic conquests

And so I am off to engage in that final bullet item.