The Best Medicine

I drove up and backed into my parking spot right behind D's. Decked out in my UMass Amherst shirt, tight shorts, a hat and sneakers, I was ready. I'd even brought a water bottle with me, unusual since I dislike carrying anything while I run. D put on his "hydration pack" (a backpack that you fill with water), threw our keys into it and we were off.

The entire week had been gorgeous; temperatures were steady in mid- to upper-70's, the sun was shining (my freckles made their first appearance of the season) and it seemed everyone needed to get outside. We walked for a bit until we got to the trail and then we started our usual jog/walk. Trails don't lend themselves to running, at least for me, because I'm not a sure-footed individual. Nevertheless, I love getting out and listening to the frogs, the water, the wind in the blooming trees; smiling at fellow joggers, hikers, bikers, and strollers as I pick my way along the path. I walked far more than usual and we deviated from our usual route, but still it felt good to be moving, great to revel in the long awaited springtime.

For our return trip I chose to take the path instead of staying on the trails; D didn't seem to mind and I felt that I would get a better workout running on more even ground. Off we went; me jogging at my moderate pace (I sometimes feel as though I'm simply plodding along and am astonished when I actually get anywhere), D sprinting past me then walking, then sprinting and walking. Then he made a comment about someone ahead of us; the fat man, I believe he was called. The fat man was beating us. So I picked up my pace, going at a near full sprint (not full or I wouldn't have been able to sustain it). D caught up with me. "Wow, you're fast!" I smiled and probably giggled a little; I certainly don't think of myself as "fast." But he assured me it was true. Now I felt really good.

We continued along, the sun peeking out from the clouds every so often, bikers whizzing by, families moving slowly along as the children ran off to look at this or that. My arms tend to get tired first, probably because they're so tense. But I ignored the pain easily enough and my feet carried me on. On and on, past various off-shoots for trails up into the hills, past the suggestions that horses had recently been here, past little houses and fountains, benches and wildlife. I developed a mantra that I repeated to myself when I felt like slowing to a walk: I will earn my dinner and sex tonight, I will earn my dinner and sex tonight. And by god, I did.

When I ran track in high school I'd set a simple goal for myself: Do not come in last. At the one race my mother will forever bring up, I was nearing the finish and I looked back. There was one girl right on my heels and another a few paces behind. Satisfied that even if I should slow down I'd not be last, I did just that. I let the girl on my heels pass me and simply finished next to last. My competitive spirit seems to show itself in board and card games, but not so much in sports. Running on that path, however, I actually felt like I could compete. Maybe my running is actually improving! Maybe if I start doing some speed work and going longer distances I can become even better. I actually can survive longer runs!

I walked back to my car feeling very proud of myself. I hadn't stopped when I wanted to (except for on the trails...but we'll ignore that for now) and I finished with energy to spare. I'd made it over my usual hurdle and definitely had a second wind. It feels like it's been a long time since I accomplished something and I've forgotten how good it truly feels.

We went to Fig for dinner and I made sure to enjoy every bite (not difficult to do, the food was quite good) and every sip of wine. At home I made sure to enjoy dessert as well. I fell asleep quickly and even when I woke up (realizing we were sleeping with the lights on) I was able to quickly fall back to sleep. I noticed nothing at all and remember only odd snippets of my dreams (I remember for some reason talking about a girl I'd gone to middle school with in one dream, I remember having strange dating experiences--entirely fictional--in another, and I remember going to a casino in what I thought was Atlantic City, but turned out to be Vegas with a hotel dressed up like AC, and winning something because I'd written "Shabbot Shalom" on my card). Today I feel amazing. I'm happy, I feel no soreness at all even though I neglected to stretch, my beau is off to NY for a few days but I got some little kisses on my shoulder this morning so I feel good, and even doing nothing at work isn't bothering me.

It's amazing what a little challenging exercise can do for the mind, body, and soul.