I have always loved to run. For the past couple years though, I seemed to have lost the love of the run and held only to the love of the effects. Recently, I read the book Born to Run by Christopher McDougall. At the time, I thought it was an interesting read, but it didn't really add anything to my running experience. If you have not read it, I highly recommend you do. It will be at least entertaining if not enlightening. I tried occasionally to rediscover the inner child who understands the art of running, but I lacked consistency and effort. Only when I wanted to run and forget would I make an attempt. So I kept to the world's view; you would think that me of all people would remember the world is not often right. I continued to push myself to train and run harder and faster, when all I needed to do was make it easy and lighten up. I would push myself until I was injuring not only my heart, but also other organs, by sending my heart rate into the upper 200's. Yes, not good.
The point is, to truly run, you have to love running. Tonight, I decided I would just start slow, really slow, and just work myself up to speed until my heart rate sat at a nice 180. As I did this, I remembered the book and decided I might as well work on my running technique too. So, I'm moseying along, and after about 2 miles, I realize I'm running faster than I normally do and my heart rate is still only at about 140. So I jumped my speed by about 45 seconds for the next mile, making that one about a 5 minute mile. When I did this, I realized my breathing stepped it up also. And I thought, "Why doesn't my heart rate stay down? I have spectacular lungs, and I'm in better shape than most people I know." Bam. I knew why. I didn't increase my breathing when I increased my pace. Silly, right? I liked to control it and keep it nice and steady. I have literally been starving myself of oxygen. No wonder my heart rate explodes. Trying to cram whatever air it can find down those tubes. Craziness, right? Heart rate. About 150. I consciously increase my breath rate. And I'm running faster than I did the summer after ninth grade, when I could hit 4:30 for a single mile. Faster. I pump more air and my body seems to lurch forward of its own volition. Beautiful. That 4th mile was about 4 minutes. The 5th and 6th I didn't even time, but I was flying. It was incredible.
A line from the book: Easy. Light. Smooth. I was all of those, just floating over the ground. Perfect form. That was the best feeling in the world. I was moving fast. Faster than I ever had before. The last 100 meters, I roared to the world my extreme joy. Humans are extraordinary. Which makes God that much more so. The entire time I had this goofy grin on my face. I couldn't help it. Magnificent.
