Last night I had the strangest dream...

Two Saturdays ago I was running trail hills when I twisted my ankle and fell on my face. (All part of my campaign to be crowned the least graceful trail runner of all time). Seriously though, it was a particularly inopportune face-plant since I had just registered for the 15 mile WTF trail race in December. To show The Doubts that no one is the boss of me. My ankle was swollen, my knee was black and blue and I was pissed (and also becoming increasingly worried that there was no way I could run 15 miles on what I had heard was a beast of a course). But I did the only things I could do. I went home, iced the crap out of my ankle and knee, ate some consolation cookies and got fired up to run some more miles. Then last Saturday, I ran 12 miles at the group run in Black Creek Park with (thankfully) no falls and barely a stumble.

And that's life I suppose. Sometimes you ace it, sometimes you fall on your face. You just have to pick yourself up, appreciate the fact that in addition to pasty-white and sunburn-red, your skin is now available in bruise-blue, and keep on being awesome.

Early this morning, I ran the gravel hill at Cobb's Hill five times. Which I think is the most times I've ever run it. Or at least the most times I've run it without feeling tired. Maybe because I kept crossing paths with a trio of runners doing the road hills and we exchanged "Good mornings" and "Gotta love hill workouts" (The first time I typed that it came out as kill workouts. Ha! Freudian slip) and "Enjoy the rest of your day" greetings. Or because in the pre-dawn dark it almost felt like I was still dreaming. And I had a really weird dream last night where I was running a race but for some reason it was inside. I was running down hallways, then in one part I had to run around a bunch of cafeteria tables 4 times and I was like what? who designed this course? Finally, I got to run outside, but suddenly I felt so uncomfortable and I realized that I was wearing jeans. Then I saw my parents and told them I needed to change into my shorts. They gave me the shorts and I kept running. But then I woke up before the finish. I was a little bummed out. I mean, if my brain is going to dream up some weird shit for me to run around, it should at least let me get to the finish line.

Lyric of the moment: "Last night I had the strangest dream. I sailed away to China, in a little row boat to find ya, and you said you had to get your laundry cleaned. Didn't want no one to hold you. What does that mean? And you said...ain't nothin' gonna break my break my stride, nobody gonna slow me down, oh no, I've got to keep on moving...."

Going the awesome way

For the past 2 weeks I've felt so slow. It may be because I've had this stupid cold for what feels like forever. I'm starting to get very cranky pants about the whole thing. Germs, I've been a most gracious host, supplying you with all the Tootsie Rolls anyone could ask for, but you have far outstayed your welcome.

Last Saturday I wasn't feeling that great but I woke up and decided to run for 100 minutes. Because I wanted to and I could. And when those two things overlap, it's good times indeed. I knew that there was some way to run through Seneca Park to Charlotte Beach and I wanted to try it out. So I ran a loop from Seneca Park to Charlotte and back. Following the Genesee River Trail from Turning Point Park up to Lake Ave, there is a seemingly interminable uphill that ends up by the cemetery. As I was running up it, a woman headed down told me "You're going the hard way." I laughed and thought, No, I'm going the awesome way.

When I got to the top, I felt pretty awesome, in that look what I can do kind of way. But I imagine I did not look very awesome at all. I probably looked like I belonged in that cemetery. I started thinking about how all the beauty and fitness magazines always depict these perfectly posed, unblemished people. They're not sweaty or muddy. They don't have any bruises or laugh lines or scars. But those are all the marks of a life well lived, a life of taking risks and exploring and getting up to so many adventures. There's beauty in that too.

Lyric of the moment: "But wherever I have gone, I was sure to find myself there. You can run all your life but not go anywhere..."