Zen-like running on a cool and drizzly afternoon

I headed out to run in a cool drizzle around 5 PM and could tell ten steps in that it was going to be a good one…and in fact it was great. Just great. It was the kind of run I’m always searching for these days and so often don’t find, because it’s hot or I’m hungry or the dog keeps stopping to sniff the underbrush or I’m in a hurry to get back to my desk and finish an article.

So often in the past two years I’ve asked, “Why doesn’t running feel the way it used to? Am I getting old? Am I just turning into a really bad runner?” I still can’t answer that, but today I re-discovered running at its best, and it made me so happy. I had that perfect Zen feeling of no goal, no endpoint, just running for the sake of running: no finish line, the only concrete marker the feel of the road unspooling under my feet. I did the Stearns Street loop – without the dog, and with This American Life on the iPod -- but was feeling so good that I added on, not only with Woodridge Road like I often do but running all the way down to the end of Baldwin before looping back up. My feet just kept pounding on; cool light drops fell over my hair and face; thick green leaves rustled overhead in the breeze. I ran for 50 minutes in all, 4.3 miles, which of course is not a long run by most runners’ standards and not even usually by mine. It wasn’t the length, it was the comfort level and the sense of commitment I felt to the run.

But also, not only physically but mentally, it was the kind of run I use to do. I wasn’t just trying to fit it in to an overscheduled day or hurrying back to do more work; I wasn’t in any particular hurry at all. And I was very aware of how good it would feel to release a healthy dose of endorphins before tonight’s party, which I’m absolutely looking forward to but which can also be a little anxiety-producing in that there are just so many people – hundreds, it often seems – to seek out and visit with and get reacquainted with. Much as I love get-togethers, that kind of social pressure makes me a little nervous, and there’s nothing like a good workout to dispel those nerves.

When I got home, the animals happened to be all grazing in a line alongside the driveway like they sometimes do, and they all seemed to be standing in the same pose staring at me as I ran by, as if saying, “Where have you been for so long?” I finished the run when I reached them; they were very wet but in friendly moods. One of the wethers let me pet him, and of course Daisy, the friendliest cow, wanted her head scratched. They all seemed puzzled that I was out in the rain, but somehow welcoming as I returned.

Now I’m back home, after a hot shower, with the pleasantly achy feeling of a good workout, and it’s just so reassuring to know it can still be like this. Not just a mile rushed in here or there but a long, deliberate, meditative run on a cool, drizzly mid-September afternoon.