BARG! BARG! BARG! I roll over and hit the alarm. My eyes are bleary, but the numbers still burn my eyes. 5:49. My day of "what-ifs" begin. What if I would've went to bed 15 minutes earlier? What if I would've set my alarm for 15 minutes earlier? I certainly could have snuck a run or a workout in. I don't need an hour an a half to get ready in the morning. Heck- I really only need 45 minutes- tops.
I pad into the kitchen and flip on the lights. I pour myself a bowl of cereal, start the coffee, and flip open my laptop to check my e-mail, facebook, and the latest celebrity gossip. What if I gave all this up for a post run Clif bar? Instead, I pour myself yet another bowl of cereal; I tend to not pay attention to how full I am when I preoccupy myself with the computer. I get ready for work and down my four cups of coffee, running out the door in heels (yes, heels) and my rolly cart (my laptop bag was really wrecking my back).
My day goes by as if I am in fast forward. Get to school, make copies, teach, snacktime, teach, hop in the car and repeat the routine at another school. In fact, this time, I am acutally kind of late for a meeting. Go, go, GO, GO! I get done and I am so wiped out that I decide to head home.
It is sunny and the fall colors are gorgeous so I slip into a pair of running tights, my favorite Nike ones with a stripe sewn down the side and zippers at the ankles. The reflective piping on the zippers is cracked with age and multiple washes. I put on a running top too, but then slip a hoodie over it. Uh-oh, bad news. This means I am getting comfortable and not going anywhere for a while. I make another pot of coffee and take in some TV shows online that I had missed. I sit crosslegged in the wooden kitchen chair. It sounds somewhat uncomfortable, but I could stay in this position all night. The yellow glow that radiated through the room from the sun shining through the leaves is starting to fade, which means that there isn't much daylight at all. I contemplate changing out of these clothes and into something else a little more conducive to laying around the house. Instead, I grab my shoes and try to sneakily lace them up. I don't want Layla to notice; I would rather take this run alone.
Once the shoes are on, I sit and think again. I hate feeling tired on every single run. I hate barely being able to make it through a half hour. I hate running a race and having it be the most painful thing I have ever felt. I realize that I am thinking too much. I zip up my jacket, start my watch, and throw it in my back j
acket pocket. No looking this time, let's see how we feel if we are not under a time constraint. I zip through the streets and hit the trail a half mile from my house. I pick up speed as I roll over the bed of sunny colored fall leaves. I tiptoe over the maze of roots and rocks as quickly as I can. As I breathe in the musty, dusty leaf smell and realize how happy I am to be able to do this. I push the pace and fly through the woods, over the river, and next to it, seeing if I can somehow outrun the water rushing over the boulders and downed trees. After 3 lovely miles on the trails I do a loop through town and head home. As I walk up my driveway, I check the watch- one hour. One blissful hour.
It took me all day, but I did it.
I am the anti-runner.
