20 mile story
10:33 PM
Sunday:
An almost inaudible B natural trickles into my ears then gradually becomes louder louder. By this point it is comparable to passing sirens, the ones that make you want to hit the officer who turned them on. My eyes quickly open without hesitation. I peer at my alarm clock and a large green 7:00am peers back at me. The time seems to snicker at me saying "I love me!" No, I hate 7am! 5-7am are for old people not college students. At this point and time, I don't want to move. I just want to cuddle in my blankets. Come on it's a Sunday and Sundays are for sleeping in right? Wrong. Sundays are now the day that the highest amount of torture is felt. To the faint at heart it might seem like torture, but to this young lad it is an invitation to the best part of the weekend.
Once I forgot about the time and remembered why I was getting up, a new spark of energy instantaneously shot through my body. A quick run down my stairs, a potty break and a quick change of clothes later, I was fully armed to test my mind and body. I must mention the feeling of putting on my sweats was akin to putting on battle armor, a sensational feeling.
Fully clothed, I marched out of my apartment building and warmed up with a run down the street to none other than Whole Foods. Now most people would laugh and say anyone who runs to a food store is a fat kid. Well, this fat kid had to stock up on some needed nutrients for the run. Running on an empty stomach for long runs is like eating feces. You've probably heard of someone doing it but you will never attempt it. Please, keep it that way!
The clerk looked at me in my battle gear panting and looked a little puzzled. I didn't even think twice as it was time, time to get the run on.
After I put an effervescent tab into my water and the energy bars in my fanny pack, I mean battle pouch, it started.
Turning out of Whole Foods the weather did not impress me. The temperature was a moderate 20ish with a sting if you will. Imagine pebbles being kicked up by a car into your face. There is a way to get over it, run till you own it. Also, during this time the streets are desolate as the Saturday night crowd still metabolizes their exorbitant amounts of alcohol in their sleep. Again, another perfect reason Sundays are great days.
By now, I have ran down Hemenway Street all the way past the intersection with Tremont St and the parker hill (Mission Hill) lays ahead of me. With my head up and heart pumping, the hill becomes a slight bump in the road. I was proud I tackled that hill. Miles went by fairly easily as I became accustomed to my pace and environment. Jamaica Plains passed by me quite quickly. The sights and sounds make me think of the 70's for some reason. JP has an eclectic feel and might look rough around the edges, it actually is a nice town. It reminds me of more dense Ithaca, NY. Not quite hippyish but more of a melting pot of about 10 cultures. Anyway, the scenery passes and I found myself at Washington street. Now most of you don't know this but the main Bus Station lies here. There are about 200 buses and it starts to get shady right around here because this now starts to become Roxbury. There are no signs but I instantly feel it. There are guys in insanely baggy clothes walking in the street and the buildings start to have more broken windows and graffiti on them. I love when this happens as I run quicker in these parts of town. You might infer on why I would do that.
By now I am feeling good, my mind is starting to clear up and I am singing a few tunes. Again I get into Roxbury and people stare. I guess no one runs in Roxbury maybe for good reason. A lot of violence maybe? None that I have seen yet.
Again the scenery changes and I see a few couples of men holding hands. Yes, my run isn't complete until I have seen gay men walking down the street. Also, I passed something very different here in the South End, it was a man walking two dogs. They weren't your average size dogs, let alone your average size great danes. These dogs were at least 4-4and a half feet to the shoulder. If the dogs stood up on their hind legs they would be 10+ feet tall. One's legs were like toothpicks they were so long and skinny. Maybe I was hallucinating. Now it's not the Sahara, it's Boston.
Fast forward 9 miles and I am coming back from Arlington via Mass Ave. This is where pain and fatigue starts to come in. This year I must break past the 20 mile barrier and not feel like I hit the wall as I did last year.
What I love about these runs is that I see many people, many environments, and get the chance to think about everything that has been on my mind while being productive in preparing for my race.
Tomorrow I will get a massage for the first time. Thanks Liz and Mary, my sisters, for giving me a gift card to the beauty spa. It will heaven tomorrow. I can't wait
An almost inaudible B natural trickles into my ears then gradually becomes louder louder. By this point it is comparable to passing sirens, the ones that make you want to hit the officer who turned them on. My eyes quickly open without hesitation. I peer at my alarm clock and a large green 7:00am peers back at me. The time seems to snicker at me saying "I love me!" No, I hate 7am! 5-7am are for old people not college students. At this point and time, I don't want to move. I just want to cuddle in my blankets. Come on it's a Sunday and Sundays are for sleeping in right? Wrong. Sundays are now the day that the highest amount of torture is felt. To the faint at heart it might seem like torture, but to this young lad it is an invitation to the best part of the weekend.
Once I forgot about the time and remembered why I was getting up, a new spark of energy instantaneously shot through my body. A quick run down my stairs, a potty break and a quick change of clothes later, I was fully armed to test my mind and body. I must mention the feeling of putting on my sweats was akin to putting on battle armor, a sensational feeling.
Fully clothed, I marched out of my apartment building and warmed up with a run down the street to none other than Whole Foods. Now most people would laugh and say anyone who runs to a food store is a fat kid. Well, this fat kid had to stock up on some needed nutrients for the run. Running on an empty stomach for long runs is like eating feces. You've probably heard of someone doing it but you will never attempt it. Please, keep it that way!
The clerk looked at me in my battle gear panting and looked a little puzzled. I didn't even think twice as it was time, time to get the run on.
After I put an effervescent tab into my water and the energy bars in my fanny pack, I mean battle pouch, it started.
Turning out of Whole Foods the weather did not impress me. The temperature was a moderate 20ish with a sting if you will. Imagine pebbles being kicked up by a car into your face. There is a way to get over it, run till you own it. Also, during this time the streets are desolate as the Saturday night crowd still metabolizes their exorbitant amounts of alcohol in their sleep. Again, another perfect reason Sundays are great days.
By now, I have ran down Hemenway Street all the way past the intersection with Tremont St and the parker hill (Mission Hill) lays ahead of me. With my head up and heart pumping, the hill becomes a slight bump in the road. I was proud I tackled that hill. Miles went by fairly easily as I became accustomed to my pace and environment. Jamaica Plains passed by me quite quickly. The sights and sounds make me think of the 70's for some reason. JP has an eclectic feel and might look rough around the edges, it actually is a nice town. It reminds me of more dense Ithaca, NY. Not quite hippyish but more of a melting pot of about 10 cultures. Anyway, the scenery passes and I found myself at Washington street. Now most of you don't know this but the main Bus Station lies here. There are about 200 buses and it starts to get shady right around here because this now starts to become Roxbury. There are no signs but I instantly feel it. There are guys in insanely baggy clothes walking in the street and the buildings start to have more broken windows and graffiti on them. I love when this happens as I run quicker in these parts of town. You might infer on why I would do that.
By now I am feeling good, my mind is starting to clear up and I am singing a few tunes. Again I get into Roxbury and people stare. I guess no one runs in Roxbury maybe for good reason. A lot of violence maybe? None that I have seen yet.
Again the scenery changes and I see a few couples of men holding hands. Yes, my run isn't complete until I have seen gay men walking down the street. Also, I passed something very different here in the South End, it was a man walking two dogs. They weren't your average size dogs, let alone your average size great danes. These dogs were at least 4-4and a half feet to the shoulder. If the dogs stood up on their hind legs they would be 10+ feet tall. One's legs were like toothpicks they were so long and skinny. Maybe I was hallucinating. Now it's not the Sahara, it's Boston.
Fast forward 9 miles and I am coming back from Arlington via Mass Ave. This is where pain and fatigue starts to come in. This year I must break past the 20 mile barrier and not feel like I hit the wall as I did last year.
What I love about these runs is that I see many people, many environments, and get the chance to think about everything that has been on my mind while being productive in preparing for my race.
Tomorrow I will get a massage for the first time. Thanks Liz and Mary, my sisters, for giving me a gift card to the beauty spa. It will heaven tomorrow. I can't wait
