September 22

There are two things lodged in my mind now between other thoughts-- the first is the Eliot line about the "negative wisdom of humility," & the second is 5:13:57, my finishing time in the Equinox Marathon up in Fairbanks last week. Its completion means the world to me, & there is, as I anticipated, a renewed sense of self in me now. But very clearly buttressing that is a renewed sense of where I erred, where I didn't offer ample respect to the endeavor, where I thought my ego might possibly fill in where my training was lacking. & so I imagine it was my ego, coupled with the thrill of a race & the odd presence of other people at all during a run (I never run with others & rarely if ever see runners on these mountains), pushing me to a quick start. At the nine-mile mark my time was at a respectable-but-ludicrously-fast-&-in-no-way-tenable-for-me 65 minutes. I came out gunning with 7:22 miles, hanging with the first quarter of runners for some reason. & then after mile nine, it started to fade in me, my legs firmed up & had no spring, & the hills undid me. I'm usually not deterred by hills-- if anything, I crave them & seek them out & prefer them to flatland any day of the week. I don't guess I have much option in that regard around here, so it's just as well. But I had used up so much of my energy on the first nine I had very little to apply to the grade of Esther Dome. & then come mile sixteen or so I pulled my groin, so the slowing down turned into a fairly comical search for a functional gait that might allow me to keep going. By mile twenty it was clear to me that running wasn't really going to happen, so I sort of shuffled along with a hobbled limp, with my knees kind of buckling & then my ankle chiming in for good measure. By the time I crossed the finish line I was a sort of sideways, broken gyroscope flown off track & scuttling to a very slow end, the accruing discomfort & awkwardness of the gait & the fatigue of the distance very clearly on display.
But goddamn it, crossing that line felt truly fucking wonderful. Really, I am recognizing more & more that there is something absolutely ineffable about running-- which is I suspect why I like it. A kind of communion you have wherein nothing is in evidence upon its completion. It is a purely phenomenal endeavor & its presence never translates into ample recounting. & so capping that with a distance goal like a marathon, pushing myself toward some slightly more distant line & then literally crossing it, no matter how slowly (11:59 miles), speaks to something in me that I wasn't sure I possessed, something I can't name, but something I am absolutely proud & overjoyed to discover.
& in the meantime, I recognize the need for a much higher weekly base mileage before the next push. Now that I know I can do it, it's a matter of doing it better-prepared, with an eye on tightening goals & broadening my distances.
So, between now & February 18, I have quite a few miles to run before the Little Susitna 50K. & goddamn if I won't respect that process fully & humbly.
Also, as a sidenote, the six of you reading this have all been incredibly supportive & generous about it, & that gives me a ridiculous amount of pride & happiness & gratitude, so thank you very sincerely.