In the last few years in this city here, it happens either in the mid winter or early spring. Certainly before Boston.
My first run with the Boston team here, was my sophomore year, 2005, when I encountered a gargantuan hill called hickory, which still makes me smile when I run it, for its entirety (.5 miles up)
It was a snowy day, and I can recall the conversation, as well as the company. I returned and I felt like I had been re-born.
Last year, it was either one of two run: One wherein I sprinted a workout with a good friend who was running late for an appointment, for about seven miles, the other where I worked much harder than I ought to have as I was a distance runner running a spring steady state with veteran XC runners. 8 miles of hills.
Earlier this year I experienced a similar run, of 11 miles as the sun set over my favorite trail to run on.
Today, I feel I met the run which re-defined much of my training, and paralleled with the fall trail run of this year.
I ran a route with my Coach, and some fellow runners which I had never run. We quite literally scaled a “rock”, to which we could see the entire city, and even beyond.
I then departed shortly thereafter, running through rush hour traffic on the busy city streets, jumping snow-banks like my mother always warned against.
Albeit, I am sore, though feel quite relieved to find this new challenge.
More importantly, I re-acquaint myself with my surroundings, as if someone has removed all of my existing tenacity and aggression; Devoid me of my preconceptions and mislead notions. I meet with old acquanitances, as well as new ones whom I have missed That is the coincidence of the grand adventure.
At times, I cannot sleep when I relish in these memories. As if I cannot escape my own contentment.
Witness my insomnia.
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