It was clear and cold

Clear and 33 degrees F. Four thousand winter runners showed up for the 10K yesterday. There was little wind. The park dressed in ice and white, I wore my old biking underwear which smelled a little like our storage unit, a couple of shirts and my windbreaker. I hadn't been running outside for about a week and hadn't done anything like the distance in over a month, but I had been treadmilling on the Hills setting for two and fours miles so I was pretty confident of making it around the Park without collasping.

The Park, of course, was glorious and different this time as it is every time I come. I was surprised by several things I had never seen before. A giant statue loomed by the Lower Traverse, I swear I had never noticed it. When I saw it I thought we were still up by the resivour, so I was relieved to see that we were much further on. There were wooden railings besides the roadway on the East Side, those seemed new and weren't and the construction on the South end is either finished or has been cleared for the winter.

I am the most hydrated person in the world. If I take a sip of water five minutes later I have to pee a sip. I hit the porta-potties first thing when I arrived. (Way too early 8:50) So I walked around and sipped on a cup of water thinking that just being emptied I'd be okay. Wrong. Ten minutes before the start, I need to pee. There is no way I can get back to the P/Ps and get back to the start. Then I see a guy leaning against a tree, his head on the tree in a meditative, almost reverential pose. Is he praying? No.

I pick a different tree down a side path.

As I am making the roadway again, a park police van, with lights on, heads down to the spot where I was 'praying' just seconds before. I do a little jog/slog up the 12 minute miles starters, worm my way deep into the mass of jerseys and tights and wait for the start.

This odd thing happens as I run. Various portions of my body check in with complaints. First, my right knee wanted to know if I felt this little jab, I said I did and to please stop and at about the two mile point it did. Where upon my lungs decided that they ached from the cold air, so I did a lot of breathing out and they settled down.

It was a beautiful day. I played the music on the Muvo and ran a little faster than the twelve minute miles I been training at. I could still hear people talking to each other as they ran:

I was so happy when I was unemployed because then I could bum around Europe.

This is so different, isn't it, from running on a treadmill.
Easier or more difficult?
I don't know it just feels different

At the two mile mark:
Hey, we're half way there!
This is a six mile race.
My head doesn't know that.

So then he says, you know who I'm talking about right?
Not really.
It doesn't matter, he says to me...

Gasping runner:
Okay, when I say stop, we are going to walk.
Non-gasping partner
You haven't got enough breath to say 'stop'.

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