My First Car

As far as my being a runner is concerned, I’m not the same person. My running technique and style has been developed over the last 5-6 months and not by any magical potion or casting of spells. Through hard work and determination, I've gotten thinner and faster and better.

The training programs developed by L have unlocked an athlete and unleashed an animal. Without his vision, I'd still be bobbing down the road to nowhere. Without my family's support, I'd still be the old tired me, unhappy me.

So, I hardly even recognize myself. I look forward to waking up in the morning. I swing my legs off the side of the bed and I look at the lean muscular shape of them and I look at my thin fingers and I feel happiness.

I think about putting on the running gear in between marrying milk and cereal, spreading jam on toast and preparing the lunch box. The shoe selection requires special attention and my internal discussion on the matter comes and goes between laying out school clothes and satisfying the toddler with enough clothing choices that will hopefully inspire him to move on to the next part of our morning routine. I braid the hair and brush the boys’ so they look anything but unkempt. My braid must be snug and uniform or strays will start bouncing around, I can see them in my shadow on the pavement waving and only getting worse about when I’m really chugging along (mile 4), and becoming a nuisance.

Because school just started, considering a base layer is not crucial, that will come later in the month of October. I’ll warm up sufficiently after suffering through the first mile. I always suffer through the first mile, and I did not invent that nor did I convince myself that it’s true, it just is.

There are phases to my runs, my body, pace and cadence morph throughout the workout. It depends on the length, but I can tell when I need to pay attention to my posture or stride. I've straightened up, literally. I run tall and with a smile. My arms are relaxed and loose at my side with hands loose and in front. I shake my arms out by my side every 2 or so miles just to feel fully loose and dialed in to my body. Feeling spontaneous during a run is something I've learned to force myself to do and in doing it, I've built confidence . Sometimes I leap over cracks in the pavement or I look left into the woods, which brings my braids and dreads over my right shoulder and they knock me in my clavicle and my face, so I don't prefer that. I also look at my shoes. The rhythmic pounding, the shoes passing each other over and over, light and easy, not heavy or stressed, just easy and pushing me, almost like a glide rather than a bounce. But sometimes I bounce too.

This is part of my being spontaneous. Occasionally I will rock my head back and forth with my stride when I'm feeling strong and in third gear. Third gear...okay so this goes back to my first car that I got on my sweet sixteenth birthday. My dad bought me a black 1983 VW rabbit GTI (complete with a ski rack, dad you rule) with blaupunkt speakers and a phatty pioneer tape deck. My running in third is punchy and light. Like that VW and those kids from Hampton I used to drag in Rye, and once I pushed her into third (with super high rpm's in 2nd), she was tight and quick and we were off! To touch the pedal in third, she'd respond immediately. So that's what running in third is to me. It's quick, light and responsive.

I have come to think of myself as having a motor (AC/DC) and being a machine...my lengthy runs put me in third and right into auto mode I go. I'm not even really cognisant of what's happening, my body does all the work for me, I'm just along for the ride. Weird the runner's high. Must. Have. It. Soon.

I'm going to write something soon about how much it costs to lose a shit load of weight.