Snowy, sleety, rainy 2-hour jaunt this a.m. to commemorate Day 730 of my running streak.
If I wasn't such a slug, I'd go back through the records and chronicle all the ultras. And marathons. And the long runs. And the weeks where I've done three long ones in the same week. And four. And five.
There was a time when all that stuff mattered to me. A lot. Now, it's more about the actual running than about the record-keeping. It's more about me and my thoughts on a quiet country road under last week's gorgeous full moon at 4:09 a.m. on a Tuesday. Or about the flash of brilliant beauty when I saw a bald eagle in full flight on the Trayfoot Trail back in December. Or the complete feeling of solitude that washes over me somewhere in the middle of every 2-hour run. Well, check that, every 2-hour run except for that ridiculous one Carp, PJ, TJ and I did where the wind chill of -10F.
This streak is a lot different from the half-dozen others. Maybe it's cuz I'm older. Maybe it's cuz I'm not as fast. Or as competitive.
Or maybe just maybe it's cuz I don't need any of that. Maybe it's cuz I like it easy. Did I run today? Check. Is my brain in a better place cuz of it? Check. Am I ready for the day? Check check.
Craig is right. I am in hippie-out mode. Know what? Pretty darn cool place to be.