Shoe: Skora Core
Distance: 23 miles
****
It’s late morning on a gloomy January Sunday. Rain seems likely, but not imminent. It’s been a long week and I’m ready to get this run started. I let my watch find the GPS signal, hit start, and take off at a slow pace. Grey as it is, the temperature is lovely and rain feels less likely each step I take down the street.
I’ve been dealing with an issue on my ankle for the past week or two and I don’t want to overdo it. At the same time, though, I’m hoping for a nice long run to cap off this long week. Before I go more than a few blocks, I remind myself to abort if I hear my ankle talking to me, provided it has something cautionary to say.
The reminder seems needless; I feel incredible. But the day is young and anything can happen at any time between points A and B.
I started listening to a podcast before leaving, but it ends just a few miles into the run. I listen to the song Sleep by Typhoon to carry me away from the noise of traffic and into Point Defiance, where I give my mom a call for a few minutes to see how things are going.
We end the call as I ascend a rather long, and somewhat steep, incline. My ankle breaks its silence for the first time on this run. “Hey,” he says, “I don’t like this hill. Let’s not do this anymore.”
“I hear you,” I tell him in reply, “Let’s see how we feel at the top before we make any decisions.”
“If you insist.” His reticence is noted, but not yet acted upon. Everything else feels great. I don’t want to make any rash decisions and spoil this run before I have to.
As I climb the lengthy hill, I weigh my options for further mental distraction. After some internal deliberation, I settle upon Hurry up, We’re Dreaming by M83. Yes. That’s the right choice. That is absolutely the right decision.
I crest the hill and set course for Five Mile Drive. As the grade lessens in severity, my ankle rescinds his former complaints and falls comfortably in line with the rest of my body.
“Thought so,” I silently say to myself.
****
Point Defiance is busy this fine, albeit dreary, Sunday afternoon. I pass by several people enjoying the park as I am. Many dog walkers, regular walkers, cyclists, fellow runners, and families enjoying the fresh Pacific Northwest air. It smells of damp evergreens and mud puddles.
I mingle road with trails on this run, breaking with Five Mile Drive when the mood strikes only to return and continue down the road until I get sidetracked again.
On one of these excursions away from Five Mile Drive, I discover a trail I’ve not seen before. I had no idea this entire area even existed. I’m just over eleven miles in at this point, but I feel renewed. This unexplored territory is great for morale. I cruise along, not entirely sure where I am.
The question “Is this a dead end?” precedes every turn I take into the unknown, but each time, the answer is a resounding and emphatic “No.” The single track guides me further from familiarity with each passing moment. I welcome the novelty of personally undiscovered trails with open arms.
Eventually, the trail spits me out into the suburbs; back to civilization, just like that. This exploratory spirit is still upon me, though. I take a right onto a road I’ve not run before based entirely on its name: North Frace Avenue. Frace. What the hell kind of word is that? I love it.
From the point at which I turned onto Frace, there’s a rather steep hill for a few blocks. I think of my ankle and wonder how he’s doing right now. We’re coming up on a half marathon by now. He’s been quiet for a long time, but I fear the distance combined with the hill might be too much for him.
My ankle complains every few steps, but he ultimately concedes and again settles back into stasis. I think the endorphins are getting to him. In any case, he’s still mostly content and I’m not going to question it.
My calves and glutes negotiate with the forces of Gravity, attempting to haggle our way to the top of the hill. Several offers and counter offers later and here we are, at the suburban summit.
My legs burn with the afterglow of a successful negotiation in which all parties leave the table satisfied. Ah, the beauty of the gravitational barter system. Give something, get something; everybody’s happy.
I follow Frace until I can do so no longer. A few turns later and I find myself exiting a loop. I’ve unwittingly gone in a circle. I now find myself where I did after leaving the trails, two or three blocks away from Frace. My sense of direction mocks me.
“Think you know where we’re going?” he laughs, “Guess again, Sisyphus.”
I shake the cloud confusion concealing itself under the guise of indiscriminately looped time. I’m back at North Frace again, but I pass on by. No need to get stuck here forever…although, that also doesn’t feel like the worst idea in the world.
Even so, I carry on, leaving the potentially infinite loop behind me as I do. A few blocks more and I come to a street I know will take me as far south as I want to go. I turn right. I’ll be on this road for a while so I settle into a rhythm. M83’s masterpiece is drawing rapidly to a close, but it doesn’t feel right to follow it with anything.
Outro sings me down a hill. This run is supposed to be slow, but I make an exception here. The hill, the song, the runner’s high, they all beg me pick up the pace, just for a few minutes. As the album ends, I let silence temper my speed once again.
My ankle is performing like a champion, but the soles of my feet aren’t as happy as they could be. Shoes as minimal as my Skora Core do little to ease any impact with hard surface of the pavement. The burden of shock absorption falls squarely with me.
I focus on form. I’m coming up on mile seventeen or eighteen at this point. A run that long is always a challenge in the Core, but that challenge is only beginning. I still have at least five miles left. It’s all going to come down to my posture and cadence. And that’s just fine with me.
****
Time passes and I come to the Narrows Bridge. Temptation calls me from across the water. If I cross the bridge, I’ll be adding at least two miles to the run (most likely more). Though this route extension sounds appealing, I know my ankle will appreciate a certain level of prudence. I opt to ignore the ill-advised suggestion to cross the Narrows. I hear my ankle’s whispered thanksgiving, and smile.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I remind him, “We still have a ways to go.”
I have one last place to go before beginning the return journey. I take another right and find myself on Sixth Avenue. Down, down, down a hill I go, pushing aside Gravity’s not-so-subtle reminder that a descent always comes at a cost.
I enter Titlow Park. These trails aren’t as scenic or extensive as those in Point Defiance, but that does nothing to diminish my enjoyment of them. I meander through the gravel paths, making one final loop, like the bow on top of the gift. Satisfied I’ve done all I set out to do today, I plot a course for home.
I ignored her before, but Gravity will not go unheeded forever. It’s a long, slow climb (sometimes more of a crawl) back to the top. I’m closing in on twenty miles. Any incline, even one tamer than this, is no simple matter. In spite of this, though, my ankle is strong and my lungs are wide open, sucking down all the oxygen they desire. Gravity and I are equals today.
The silence has been nice, but I feel my mind beginning to wander. Aimlessness was fine a few miles ago, but now I risk fatigue catching up with a vengeance if I don’t give my weary head something to focus on. I ask myself what I should listen to and, once I reach a stoplight, I hit play on the first album that comes to mind: Challengers by The New Pornographers.
Once again, I am one hundred percent onboard with my selection.
****
The last few miles aren’t anything special. Not wanting to give my ankle any further opportunity for failure, I opt to simply follow Sixth Ave all the way back home. No more surprises. It’s time to wrap this thing up.
As I traverse onward. Strip malls and fast food chains greet me with gaudy signs as I pass by. Home is just a couple miles away now, but wait…what’s this? Carl’s Jr.? I’m actually remarkably hungry now I think of it. I’ve been on the move for twenty-one miles.
The thought of a burger for the road draws me in, as a particle of inquisitive light inching nearer and nearer to a black hole until he is no longer capable of escape. I hurry through the parking lot, step through the door, and stand in line, waiting to place my order.
The anticipation builds. At last, my number is called. My burger is ready! I say thank you and head out, returning once again to the road, but now with a smile on my face and a burger in my hand. I take a bite as I continue down the street. Mmmmm…I have done a very good thing. No regrets.
I consume the burger on the run. Each step and each bite bring me closer to the finish line. When I left this morning, all I wanted was a twenty-mile run as free of ankle pain as possible. Now, as I close in on mile twenty-two and swallow the last of my burger, I can truly say I could have asked for no better result.
I reach my apartment and stop my watch as the odometer reaches mile twenty-three. I stretch my tired muscles, bathing in gratitude as I do.
I can’t believe I get to do this. I can’t believe I get to run for hours on end. It’s no small thing to me and I relish every second of it, whether in pleasure or pain. This, especially with the wind in my face, an adventure at my feet, and a burger in my hand.