Bet you wish you were me.
Well, okay, you probably don’t want to be a moody, introspective writer. But I’ll bet you wish you were visiting me and running here.
Yesterday I ran the Lowell Point Road loop. From my house, it’s exactly 9.1 miles, if I supplement an extra section on back roads. The views are amazing. There’s nothing like running with the sounds of the waves hitting the shore.
The run was awesome. I set out to only do 4 but just kinda ended up doing 9. Don’t you love when that happens?
I got to watch boats rocking the bay as I ran.
On the way back I pushed the pace and oh, it was one of those runs when everything flowed and my legs felt effortless and my breathing was even and I truly felt on top of the world (even though there were damned RVs on the road).
I was thinking of my life as I ran, and how some parts of it have been unbearably difficult and others unbearably joyful, and how odd and perfect that I’ve ended up running along a bay in Alaska. And then I wondered where I would be five years from now and what I might see as I ran: A river? The lower and more rounded mountains of the East Coas? The red sandstone of the high desert? (Oh please, please let it be this last one).
Sometimes, not all the time, mind you, and not as often as I would like. But sometimes when I run I feel so happy it’s as if my very blood sings. Do you know what I mean?
Running: 9.1 miles, 1:18:32
Reading: Finally finished “American Wife.” Loved it for the most part, especially how nice it was to have a fat book to sink down with.