There were so many good reasons not to go. Both my Achilles tendons still hurt from my run two days ago. I had some work to finish up. I was going to be solo. I didn’t wake up early enough to take advantage of the cool morning. Breakfast was sitting heavy in my stomach.
But, like I have so many times before, I laced up my shoes, did a few stretches, and started with my usual limp slash shuffle down the trail outside my front door.
It takes me a mile or two to warm up, and by warming up, I mean feeling less pain in my heels. It doesn’t go away anymore. I switched up my training a few years back to focus more on biking to get the cardio in, but running has a hold on me, and as a cowboy once said to macho cowboy, I just can’t quit you.
It was a clear day and from the trail, I could see San Gorgonio, San Jacinto, and Baldy covered in snow. So much suffering on those mountains, along with great memories of long days with friends. Funny how they always go together.
There was this dog walking on the trail, and I swear to God that she borrowed Beyonce’s glam team. This dog was beautiful, with hair flowing in the wind, it even smelled good. I smiled at the owner and complimented the fine grooming and she said thank you, and she was probably thinking, stop looking at my dog like that you weirdo, because in my head it didn’t sound that weird but when I see it written like that, I’d hold the leash a little tighter, too.
There was a climb after Bowyonce. It was getting warm. I didn’t feel great, but I was close to the top and turned a blind corner on the trail and almost ran into this guy who was hiking the other direction. He was a big man, a stranger, sweaty, and struggling. When he saw me, that look of pain became a smile, and he said well done, man, well done. And I said, you too, and as I passed we gave each other a nonchalant low five, and it was kind of a beautiful moment.
The pain went away and I felt something I haven’t felt on a run in a long time, that flow state, that floating, and I did everything I could not to acknowledge it, because when you start thinking about it, it’s gone. My thoughts turned to zen edging, and wondering if that was a thing. Sting would know, I should DM Sting. And fuck, I was thinking about it now, and poof…gone.
I started the descent and saw the line of cars parked in the distance. They were there to check out the California lilac bloom that had made its way to Instagram and TikTok, and now hundreds of people flock there on the weekends. It’s okay, I thought, it’s temporary, and I get to enjoy these trails whenever I want, out of my front door. And don’t tell anybody, but there are better blooms and views than the ones you can drive to.
Runs have become different. I embrace getting stuck at a red light instead of trying to sprint to catch the greens. I relish the breaks now, even if it means I have to cross the street in front of a bunch of waiting cars that I assume are judging my limp thing I try to play off as a jump-start as the countdown clock moves way too fast.
When I finished up the run, I stretched my lower back by leaning over to untie my shoes. I walked into the kitchen, dripped sweat all over the tile floor, and grabbed some water. “How was your run?” my wife asked.
I answered like I have hundreds of times before, “Okay. It was tough, but it’s so beautiful out there.”
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