The World Through My Shoes is my look at living this incredible gift God has given us. As a busy wife, mother and daughter I relish the alone time I receive on my early morning runs. It is in the stillness of those predawn mornings where I often am inspired. Thank you for taking the time to read my words.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

The Affair

My household is still sleeping when I quietly sneak out the back door.  The sun remains hidden behind the night, yet emerging slowly as it's light begins to outline the mountains ahead of me.

The affair began a few weeks ago and in three more weeks it'll be over.  Although he is never boring, he tires me and a handful of weeks is about all I will be able to handle of him.  No one can see me as I make my way down the road; this is a good thing as I rolled out of bed only a few minutes before.

We meet Thursday mornings on a quiet and desolate road.  Other options are available, but none fit into my schedule as easily as this road.  I arrive and suppress my feelings to run the other way.  No, I must follow through with this.  I can't see him but I know he is there.  

Inhaling deep I look at my Garmin, press the start button and begin to run.  Hard.  Bart slinks out from behind the shadows.  He falls in step right behind me, he pushes my pace.  I can not out run him.   His voice breaks the silence in my head, telling me to slow it down.  I look at my watch.  He's right.  He's always right.  I curse him.
Half of a mile later, I find myself in a slow and easy pace.  Bart says nothing.  My watch beeps.  Bart pushes me and I am forced to pick up the pace once again.  The nighttime clouds created an air laden with the mugginess of summer.  Beads of sweat drip down my forehead.   Bart smirks.  "Don't flatter yourself" I mumble.

Another 800 meters completed, I slow my pace once again.  While catching my breath, I smile as the realization hits me - not once did Bart tell me to speed up or slow down.  The correct pace becomes easier to find.  Despite nailing the paces, Bart hovers over me refusing to let me go.

The cycle repeats itself several more times.  I am hot, I am tired and I want to punch Bart in the face.  Yet, he does not give up on me.  Like a bad penny you can't get rid of, I hear his voice over and over again, "Come on Cheri, you got this."  or my favorite, "Oh yea?  You can't punch me if you can't catch me."

With the workout done, I turn and head for home.  Bart disappears into the shadows.  I question the sanity of this affair.  I am a tired and sweaty mess, not caring to ever see him again.  Yet, after a long shower and few hours removed from our rendezvous, a secretive and coy grin emerges on my face.  It is this feeling of tremendous accomplishment which drives me back to him time and time again. 

Yasso 800s will be waiting for me next week to push me, work me and to make me stronger come race day.  Bart and I will continue this love/hate relationship. That is until the day comes when I catch him.  And instead of punching him in the face, I will hug him while standing at the finish line of my Boston Qualifying Marathon.        
The man himself.

No comments:

Post a Comment