I got to keep on running. Keep on hiding....

You know those people who say that running gives them a sense of freedom and energy? That it's a tonic, an escape, and that it clears their head? They lie.

Running (or whatever it is that I do, more akin to the lurching forward propulsion of an elephant with a limp) is neither freeing nor energizing. It's a trial of bursting lungs, burning legs, endurance of people looking at you like you are nuts (because you are) and repeated moments of hoping that if you just make it to the next street corner, a bus will come barreling around the corner and hit you, putting you out of your misery.

Oh sure, it clears your mind. It clears it of all thoughts except "I must keep going because eventually I get to stop and eat large quantities of baconnaise." And yes, it is energizing. Once you stop, have eaten, showered and slept for two days. But an escape? Perhaps from other, much more pleasurable activities such as seeing friends, eating, dancing, and cleaning the grout out of the bathroom sink.

And now, a musical interlude from the Spencer Davis group (includes bonus unidentified foreign subtitles!)

I've been doing this for let's see, about six weeks. My long runs are up to 8 miles (or about 13 KM), which I do once a week, and have been running 2-3 other times a week, plus one "cross-train" of a cycling or weights class. You'd think it would have gotten easier. That, also, is not true. Although there was one time in which I was finishing a longer run and all of a sudden, it was like someone injected me with energy/speed/cocaine because I felt I could have continued running for longer than my planned route, maybe even for several minutes longer. I also had a ridiculous smile on my face the whole time. It was lovely. And never happened again.

In the past three or four weeks, I've also run through a blizzard. Let me repeat that. I got home (in a blizzard), put on my running clothes (while it was blizzarding), left my house (in a blizard) and went for a run (blizzard). At least I know I'm not alone in my mental instability - my friend Andrea came with me. We lasted for 26 minutes.

But after all this, it is encouraging that even with the increased distances, I have not yet, in fact, died. You know, that's kinda cool.

Small victories to big pains

See, I had this plan to do my whole running schedule while on vacation. I thought it would be a good way to get in the running mindset. Besides, I'd be running in Washington and in New York, and I'd probably need to run away from muggers and rapists anyhow, which would add an extra challenge.

Surprisingly, I was able to do about 80% of my runs, including a wicked 7 mile run in Washington. And I didn't die! It was beautiful - I ran along the Mall, past the Washington monument, and high-fived Barack. Did I mention I didn't die? My heart didn't stop/explode out of my chest? My legs continued to work when I was done, which was also astounding.

Of course, with great success comes great, uh, pain? At first my ankle started to really hurt, but that went away as quickly as it came. So I thought I was home free (what does that mean? Home free? That my mortgage is paid off?). But then my little knee, which has carried me through hundreds of fitness classes, thousands of kms of walking and biking, and many hours of dancing, decided it was not impressed with me and filed notice to cause me pain and suffering while going down stairs, running, and just generally moving. I now hobble along like a demented, three-legged bear, scaring small children in the process.

And so, I may have to rest up for the next week, forgoing running, and instead spending lots of time on my couch with ice on my knee, watching endless pirated episodes of "Paris Hilton's new best friend's new boyfriend's small dog's food preferences."