Comfort run

Some years ago, on one of those many occasions when I began running again I fell into an interesting conversation with a fellow runner/worker. "All I want," I told her, "is a long flat path, a dirt trail, shaded by tall trees. A place where all I can see is the long, straight trail ahead. Do you know where one of those is around here?" She smiled and shook her head. But I found one of those the other day. I had spotted the entrance of the trail on a drive through Pacific Grove and was reminded of seeing a path while we were house hunting there a few years back. I was near my turnaround point on a nine-mile run when I hooked up with the trail. For one of the few times in my running life I began to dread the turnaround. The path divided a grove of Eucaliptus and went as far as I could see, flat as a pancake. My first thought was, dang, I wish my life was like this sometimes, straight and flat, one foot in front of the other. No bends in the trail where unwelcomed surprises might linger, no intimidating climbs where the pain of anticipation almost outweighs the climb itself. Just straight, cool and easy, where I could push myself as hard (or not) as I wanted. I kept going that day, until I realized that if I didn't turn back soon I'd miss that meeting at work, and miss enough of those meetings and I'd be out of a job. I think I came to the end of that trail where it intersected a street, but I couldn't tell. The trail might have picked up again after another few blocks. I'll probably explore it again sometime.

* 10 miles today, mixing in a lot of hills. I couldn't face the killer climb, but halfway through my run I felt guilty for not doing enough hills, so I began adjusting my route to get in more climbing. Practice, practice, practice.