Faith

This past Sunday was the first long run for the half-marathon training program. I was to complete six miles, with my split times averaging 8 minutes 23 seconds per split. I was not worried about the mileage, but I was a bit doubtful about my split times. On a treadmill, this would be very easy to control. But, as you all know my hatred for treadmills, I always do long runs outside. I almost always run an average split of 8 minutes and 34 seconds on these runs, it's my "I feel like I could run forever" pace. Knocking-off 11 seconds per mile seemed a bit daunting.

I slept in a little later than normal on Sunday and, quite honestly, had to drag myself out of bed. The last thing I wanted to do was run. My body felt worn-down from the past week and my stomach was churning with the anxiety of an unsettled argument with Mike. The bleakness of the sky certainly wasn't helping matters.

The first mile to Central Park was tough. The air felt almost as heavy as my legs; I had overdressed for the run and felt clammy. I kept thinking about the argument. All my thoughts and things I hadn't said seemed to collect as a large lump in my throat.

With mile one completed, I turned left into Central Park. It began to drizzle. For some, this would have been cause to turn around and forget their run, but I have always loved running in the rain. And today, with the cool, soft rain drops kissing my cheeks, it felt extra special. It was mimicking my mood and, in a city that can often leave you feeling a bit lonely, it was nice to have the company.

The lump in my throat began to melt away and suddenly I didn't even feel like I was running anymore. My mind was lifted to place where it didn't need to encourage my legs to keep moving. Somehow, my body was moving effortlessly, affording my mind the opportunity to escape to some other place entirely.

I wish I could say things were perfectly clear at the end of those six miles and I had thought of the perfect way to communicate why I was upset. In all truthfulness, things still seemed a bit hazy and it still took some time to put everything into words. What those six miles did was give me the confidence and energy I was lacking in tackling a problem.

They made me realize that maybe Mike wasn't just being a dense-pain-in-the-butt, but maybe I hadn't made my point clear enough. This time, everything was put on the table, and some things were presented in new ways. My effort was validated with a "Eureka!" moment, where I swear I saw a cartoon light-bulb glow above Mike's head. Argument solved.

Oh, I finished the six miles in 50 minutes and 23 seconds. Average splits? 8 minutes and 23 seconds. Maybe I all I really needed was a little bit of faith.