Searching for My Stride

So I got back on the horse last week and ran the following: Tuesday-3 miles, Wednesday-4 miles, Sunday-5 miles, and Tuesday-6 miles (that would be yesterday). Along the way there have been two physical therapy sessions in which I continue to see value.

I am pretty happy with where I am physically. Some leg and back soreness but no show stoppers. Also getting some weirdness in my left knee like a ligament is a little sore across the top of my kneecap.The first three outings were in mixed weather but yesterday was bursting with sunshine and temps near 60. Perfect. The water fountains have not been reopened at the B&A Ranger Station yet but the rest of the facility is open. That was my turn around point on my "out and back" six.

People are beginning to emerge from their winter hibernation and the trail was actually pretty busy for 1PM on a Tuesday. There were moms with strollers and old folks and even a few other runners. I didn't push too hard but managed 6 miles at about a 10 minute pace. Finished strong. I feel as though I am building my way back into shape. Maybe this weekend I will find my stride and do 8 or 10 miles while M is at school on Saturday.

Something new happened at the end of my run. It is my policy to never look behind me. I don't see where any good can come of it since I am always racing the clock (until the very end when I try and pass everyone I can!) So yesterday I was running along, stretching it out, and getting my rhythm back and...not looking behind me. I covered the last two hills on my return and cruised into my neighborhood, down a steep hill, and turned onto my street for the last, flat, quarter mile.

Chugging along, picking up the pace a bit, and feeling pretty good about myself with Van Halen blasting in the iPod and the sun beating down I was in my own world. Ahead I saw the mail truck pulling away from our box. I hit the driveway, iPod still cranked, and walked over to get the mail as part of my cool down. Mostly junk mail, a couple of bills, the Census...

Turning around to cross the street and head up to the house I was almost run over by a young guy in shorts and a Live Strong shirt. He must have been a hundred yards or so behind me for at least the last half mile. He was probably in his twenties and really flying. I would not have been happy to have been passed on my own street. It served as a reminder that I had better find my stride. I won't start looking back and I don't like getting passed. The running gods sent the message and I got it.

The beatings will continue until morale improves. More roadwork.