I promised myself that when the weather started getting warmer, I’d go back to running.
12 years ago, when I was getting in shape for the first time, runs were the means to the end of getting to my little 24 hour gym in Somers Point. I realized the route was short enough to walks, and after enough walks it became a gentle warmup/cooldown run.
When I moved away from the Shore and into the Pinelands, the runs took on a bit more meaning. The runs became a part of my workout regimen I both looked forward to and feared a bit. I’d run a zig-zag path through a few miles of town, at least once passing through a stretch of woodland that was pitch dark at 5am. Coyotes and other animals weren’t uncommon- on my runs I’d find patches of fur or feathers where a predator had gotten lucky.
I loved the quiet more, though. I loved the fog and mist, and how easily I could fall into “the Zone.” I just needed to keep my legs moving, and I felt like I was part of it all. Like the coyotes and dark couldn’t touch me, because as long as I kept moving, I was one of them.
“Nature loves courage,” Terrence McKenna said. I would run through fog, dark, and rain. I would run in baking heat or snow.
The weather is warmer now, and my 37-year-old body is questioning whether I can do it all again. Whether I can really bounce back a 4th time. I don’t know if I can, but I know I’m going to try- and part of that will be reminding myself why I loved it in the first place.
The Black Hat Baker 