The thoughts of a wannabe runner

Right now it's 60 and sunny out in the middle of October in Kent, Ohio. I have three hours until my next class. The Spirit of Pittsburgh half marathon is a little over a week away.

And I'm sitting in my room.

Sometimes I wonder if I can actually call myself a runner. I run a lot. I've spent hundreds of dollars in the past year on entry fees, shoes and clothes. I've ran races around Ohio and a half marathon in Pittsburgh. I can call myself a runner, but do I really have a runner's mentality?

My sister in high school was on the cross country team. She ran six days a week through the summer and fall. I thought she was crazy.

But maybe you have to be.

Running is more than running. Running is a need, not a want. Running is a lifestyle, not a hobby. Running is a lie, not a request.

I can want to run. The weather could be nice, I could feel gung-ho after watching Prefontaine. That stuff would make me want to run. But it's not just wanting. It's needing. I need to run for my day to seem complete. I need to feel that exertion, that tiredness, that pain.

To call running a hobby is a joke. Who can wake up at 5 a.m. for a race on a weekend and call it a hobby? I know a lot of people who call photography or art a hobby. I don't know anyone who has willingly woken up before the crack of dawn to paint though.

Depending on the day, usually about three miles into a run is when I start lying to myself. I tell myself I don't have much farther to go, my legs don't really hurt that bad or it's really not that bad. Sometimes I have to yell at myself (Seriously, watch me run up Summit St. hill sometime). Never though, do I ask myself to run more.

That just seems stupid. Of course I'm going to say no.

But maybe that's the difference between a wannabe and a runner.

# # #

I'm relaunching this blog on wordpress soon. Nothing against blogger, but it just seems like everyone else is on wordpress.

So be on the lookout for SeeJoshRun.wordpress.com (Like the title? I thought of it while running a few weeks ago. And I don't like attack the hill for two reasons: 1) I honestly hate hills, 2) My brother told me the name sounds like a crazy right-wing political blog. He's probably right)

How about run txt?

"I'll run tomorrow morning."

Those are usually the first words I think on Saturday mornings as I roll over on my futon to reset my alarm.

A couple things to note here:

1) The snooze function on my phone has increased my laziness 10 fold.

2) Yes, I sleep on a futon. I'm hip like that.

3) Tomorrow doesn't come very often.

I'm not what anyone would call a lazy person. I take 18 credit hours a semester, work 30+ hours at the newspaper, sit on Kent State United Way's board, plan stuff with student leadership in the Dive, etc., etc.

Lately though, I've been an unmotivated person. I always tell myself I can do this later. Procrastination is every college student's enemy.

When I tell myself I'll do my long run tomorrow, tomorrow becomes tomorrow, and tomorrow becomes tomorrow. You get the idea. It just never happens.

I think this is why having a running partner is so important. Running partners do more than just chat while jogging; they encourage each other.

This morning if I had gotten a text or anything from someone telling me or asking me to run, I probably would have. I would have jumped out of bed, thrown on my running stuff and headed outside. A simple text message is encouragement. It's knowing you're running for someone else.

It's like a team almost. You don't work for yourself, you work for the guy next to you. When I'm running by myself, the guy next to me is a large, middle-aged man mowing his lawn in cutoffs. He's not exactly someone I want to work for. So I don't run.

I'm one of those people who don't like to disappoint. I also don't say no very often. So if someone tells me to run, I'll do it. Maybe I'm a little weird in that sense. But that's what gets me to run.

So next time you hear me talking about running, send me a text the next day. I'll feel guilty and run. And you'll feel great knowing you've just manipulated me into doing something.

Boy meets shoes

I think a special bond exists between a runner and his shoes.

The shoes carry the runner, keeping him comfortable on the long run. They protect the runner from rocks and water. They love the runner.

But the runner fails to return the affection. While the shoes' love of its master is unwavering, more often than not, those shoes end up tossed under a bed, still reeking of sweat.

Six or eight months of hard labor, and the runner discards the shoes for a new, fresh pair. Sure, there is some heartbreak. An awkward phase of adjusting to a new pair of shoes, but the runner eventually moves on.

___________________________________________________________

I bought a new pair of running shoes before the start of the semester. They were a slick, shiny pair of Adidas Supernova Glides. While trying them on at Dave's Running Shop, I felt like my feet found love at first sight.

A month or so later, that doesn't seem to be the case.

My first runs with my new shoes went well enough. The short 2, 3-mile light jogs around town were nothing spectacular, but enjoyable enough for a second date.

The relationship strained though. My feet wanted my new shoes to feel like my previous ones. Runs began to seem forced. Hill climbs felt tense. Spontaneous runs ended terribly. Eventually, my feet became reluctant to even go on runs.

My feet had moved too quickly in the relationship. They didn't give time for the shoes to break in, to truly feel comfortable. Sure, everything seemed great in that fling at the store, but now the real world was setting in. Maybe my feet and those Adidas just weren't meant to be.

Then my old running shoes came back. The hole in the left shoe didn't seem so bad anymore. The familiar firmness of the soles embraced my feet on long runs. All the old feelings returned.

My feet became confused. Was there still something between them and the old shoes? Why didn't runs with the new shoes work out? Did the socks have anything to do it?

Only time will tell which shoes are meant for my feet. For now, my feet are running with my old shoes. But the new shoes are still in the picture. My feet walk around campus with them, breaking in, becoming more comfortable with each other.

It's probably better that they just take it slow for now anyway.

(Josh's note: This love story is in no way an allegory to myself or any real-life situation. I just got bored while waiting for a casserole to bake.)

I hate hills

Northeast Ohio might be one of my least favorite places to run.

I've ran around a lot of places — NW Ohio, Cincinnati, Pittsburgh, Jacksonville, Fla., west central Ohio — but Northeast Ohio ranks at the bottom.

Why do you ask?

The hills.

Yes, I realize this blog is named Attack the Hill, and I named it after the struggle to run up hills and conquer them. Lately though, they've been conquering me.

Kent has some fairly steep hills, especially around the university. There's Lincoln Street, Summit Street, Terrace Drive and Crain Avenue — just to name a few. I've never ran a road race with hills that steep or long. I really question sometimes why I train on these hills.

At home, in Pemberville, I can run 8-9 miles no sweat. Here at Kent, I'm sucking wind hard after two miles. That's not cool.

Maybe it's my core muscles. I haven't been doing any crunches or push-ups lately. Maybe I'm getting a little weak around that area. I'll try doing crunches and stuff in the mornings. Hopefully that'll help me attack the hills.

Or I'll just rent a really big backhoe and level out Kent, Oh.

Race countdowns:

Spirit of Pittsburgh Half Marathon: 58 days

Thanksgiving Day 10K Run (Cincinnati): 84 days

Flying Pig Marathon: 240 days

Pemberville Five Miler: Race Day

(Note: Since the Pemberville Five Miler begins at 6:30, I had an awkwardly long amount of time to kill. So this is what happened.)

10:00 AM (8 1/2 hours until race time): Wake up and lie in bed for a couple minutes. It’s going to be a hot day, I can already feel it.

11:30: After draining a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats, I open my itunes and crank up my “Psych up to Run” playlist. Nothing motivates me to run more than this playlist.

A.M. — Pax217

Readyfuels — Anberlin

The Sun Also Rises — Brave Saint Saturn

Vertigo — U2

The Galley Slave — Flatfoot 56

One Time — Earthsuit

Hand Grenade — Thousand Foot Krutch

Engage — Pax217

Our Little Secret — Justifide

Echelon — Pillar

 Bliss — delirious?

Come On — Andy Hunter

Go — Andy Hunter

Chinatown Jail Break — Flatfoot 56

Schizophreniac — Earthsuit

Where the Streets Have No Name — U2

Seven Nation Army — The White Stripes

Harder, Better, Faster Stronger — Daft Punk

Where the Streets Have No Name is especially meaningful to me. On top of U2 being an awesome band, this is one of the songs I remember hearing on the loudspeakers at Pittsburgh. The only other song I remember is Bruce’s Born to Run. I think that’s a little too cliché though.

I'm also checking my facebook page more often than I should. I don't think there's a better way to kill time than to mindlessly stare at facebook as it updates itself. Maybe I should get a Twitter too. 

12:15 PM: I sit down with my mom and brother for a Japanese lesson. After a summer of absolutely no studying, we’re both a little rusty. I barely remember hiragana and even less of katakana. Luke and I struggle through an hour or so of conversation. I think some of it is slowly starting to come back.

2:22: After eating a really light first lunch, I decide I’d rather feel full for a couple hours at least today. My mom makes a bowl of kitsune udon, Japanese-style noodles and vegetables. It’s just about my favorite lunch meal. I have this theory that Japanese food is better to eat than Italian food before running. Today, I finally get to put my theory to the test.

3:00 (3 1/2 hours to race time): The weather widget on my Mac says it’s currently 85 degrees outside. Great.

3:12: “Josh, if you’re just killing time before the race, you should take your sleeping bag to the Laundromat.” — My mom.

4:08: Going to the Laundromat was the first time I'd been outside all day. Holy cow. It's hot. I saw some people setting up registration tables by the fire station where the start line is. It shouldn't be allowed to be this hot today.

5:00 (1 1/2 hours to race time): Took a nap. Not because I was tired. Not because it's part of my pre-race ritual. Nope. I'm still just killing time. I think I'll go drink some water now.

6:00: Changed into my running clothes (first time wearing compression shorts in a race! Exciting I know). Then I walked down to the firehall to register in. My bib was 169. The square root of 13, an unlucky number. I just thought of that now though.

6:26: I notice the bank's time and temp says it's 90 degrees out.

6:30: The gun goes off...

Mile 1 (8:00): All I think as I approach the first mile marker is, "How are my feet feeling? Is my stomach ok? How's my pace? Too fast?"

Mile 2 (16:08): I'm a little weirded out when I hear the splits being called out. An 8:08 second mile? And I'm still feeling good? Sweetness.

Mile 3 "The Turnaround" (24:23): A mile completely out in the country. No shade, few buildings. Some enthusiastic fans lay out slit hoses that spray water on the runners. The fire department brings out a pump truck to dose everyone on the course. Relief. I love this race.

The turnaround is typically where I stop to walk. I still felt good though. So I kept running. The breeze blew into my face, suddenly the sun didn't seem so unrelenting.

Mile 4 (31:50?): Mile 4 is roughly the same water stop as Mile 2. Oddly enough though, there was no split caller. I was annoyed, so I asked the guy next to me. He said something around 31:50. I have a hard time believing I actually ran the fourth mile in 7:27.

The Finish Line (40:25): I love the finish of a race. I blew past four or five runners on my kick. I may be a road racer right now, but in high school I was a sprinter. My kicks are sweet.

So all in all, a 40:25 five-mile is a pretty good base to start my half marathon training from. Not to mention the fact that it was a gazillion degrees out today either.

Random thought

When I started this blog I dubbed it "attack the hill" because that's what my friends told me to do while we climbed hills during our runs at college. 

It occurred to me this afternoon that the 5K I ran this morning, which dropped 300 feet over it's span, was the complete opposite of this blog's name.

Oh, irony.

"The Fastest 5K in Ohio"

First race since Pittsburgh.

This morning I ran the JK 5K with most of the staff of Camp Wesley, where I'm a counselor this summer. It's billed as the fastest 5K in Ohio. For good reason too. The course starts literally at the highest point in Ohio and pretty much drops a couple hundred feet over 3.1 miles.

The guy who won ran something like sub-5 minute splits. I don't care if you're in free fall, that's fast. I heard he passed the pace car at one point.

Here's my splits:

Mile 1: 6:48

Mile 2: 13:56

Finish: 22:50something (Hey, guess where the downhill stopped)

That's pretty much going to be the fastest 5K I'll ever run. So I guess the JK 5K lives up to it's name. But hey, how can you compete with a race that starts at the top of Ohio?

Next race: Probably the Pemberville 5-Miler

French Bread Pizza

I finally went running for a substantial distance for the first time since Pittsburgh (so like three weeks). By substantial I mean three miles without stopping. I'm finding motivation to run hard to come by. I guess I just need to find some races to train for and get excited about. That being said, I've got at least two planned for the summer:

June 20: The Jeff Kerns Memorial 5K in Bellefontaine

August 20something: The Pemberville 5 Miler. My favorite race of all time.

I'm looking for more 5 and 10Ks to run, and I think I might do another half in the fall. Training is going to be difficult though because I'm working at a summer camp.

Anyway, last night I ran three miles around town. It felt great. I love running around Pemberville. Say what you want about small, midwest towns, but I haven't ran in many other better places.

Unfortunately, I ran about an hour or so after I ate dinner — french bread pizza and pumpkin soup. Definitely felt that on the run. Still, I pushed hard and I think I ran about high 7s or low 8s. I need a watch.

Mission accomplished... sort of

I did it. Not going to lie, I walked a pretty good amount, but I did it. Thirteen and one-tenth miles in 1 hour, 53 minutes and 27 seconds.

Not bad in my opinion. 

Check out what I wrote about crossing the finish line here: http://media.www.kentnewsnet.com/media/storage/paper867/news/2009/05/04/Sports/The-Runners.High-3735436.shtml

Running this half marathon was a great experience, and I'm really proud of what I did.

But...

I still haven't ran a marathon. I'm still tempted to try.

So here we go again.

My name is Josh Johnston. I'm a sophomore journalism student at Kent State University. This is my blog about my attempts to run a marathon.

The Day Before

I'm writing this from a Days Inn about 20 minutes from downtown Pittsburgh. My bib number is 7079. Tomorrow at 7:30 a.m. I'll start the Pittsburgh half marathon.

I'm ready for this.

Reset

I'm probably an idiot for not going to a doctor sooner. The pills he gave me are reducing the swelling in the muscles around my knee. I've ran three times in the past week without any pain. I had almost forgotten what that felt like.

On the down side, I've got to rebuild my milage slowly. I'm paranoid about hurting myself again, so I'm taking it slower with progression. I'm sticking to the miles I prescribed to myself before I run, regardless of how I feel. 

The half-marathon is still going to be incredibly difficult, no doubt about that. But I've got restored confidence. Mentally, I'm more focused on the run and not quitting.

Monday was a rainy, grey day. Most people hate those days, college students especially. All I heard was complaining about the weather, but as I was running that day, I couldn't help but smile.

I smiled because everything was beautiful. The grey sky only made the grass and trees look greener. The rain gave a fresh, wet smell to the outdoors. I couldn't ask for anything better.

People complain about the weather, but how can I complain when I know God created it to be beautiful? 

I'm terrible at this

It's been a good month since I last updated. I should really work on doing better at this thing. Anyway, so what's happened in the last month?

Basically, my running has gone from minimal to somewhere less than minimal. A lot of that has to do with my knee, which I finally went to the doctor for, but more on that later.

Since my muscles started giving out on me, my "mental toughness" to push myself on a run has gone to the junkyard. Even running just three miles is challenging right now. I guess I fell out of the habit. Today as I write this, I haven't ran in a week. There's less than 3 weeks until the half-marathon. It's going to be ugly. 

I'm still doing it though. Maybe almost as punishment for not running, not pushing myself. I'm becoming better at making excuses. "I've got a paper due. I haven't eaten enough today. I'm not hydrated. I don't have enough time."

Time. That one's a killer. I don't understand how actual runners can do it. How do people balance work and exercise? In high school, it was easy: I went to classes and then after school ended I went to practice every day. Not difficult. I had to be there. It was required. Now, it's not. Running has become a hobby. Something I take up when I've got loads of free time and energy.

I need to get serious. It's too late for me to do well at the half-marathon, but I can kick myself in the butt and start looking toward the late summer.

Running is a lifestyle. I can't treat this as a high school infatuation, one day head-over-heels for it and the next day on to whatever catches my eye.

If I've learned anything from these past few months it's that. Running isn't just changing into athletic shorts and adidas shoes and heading out the door. It's a mental state. It's dedication. Right now, It's something I'm terrible at.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not kicking myself to the curb by saying that. I need to refind my motivation, what compelled me to go running when it was 15 degrees out and snowing. What drove me last summer to wake up at 8 a.m. three times a week to run.

I need to find my running muse.

It's official...

Dear Joshua,

I am sorry to hear that you are injured. I wish you a safe and healthy recovery. I have updated your registration to b ein the half marathon. If you need anything else, please let me know. Thanks!

 

Sincerely,

Kacey Byrne-Houser

Event Coordinator

Dick's Sporting Goods Pittsburgh Marathon

425 Sixth Avenue, Suite 1100

Pittsburgh, PA 15219

Phone:412.392.1021

Fax: 412.202.3494

 

 

-------- Original Message --------
Subject: Marathon registration
From: Joshua Johnston
Date: Sat, March 14, 2009 12:24 pm
To: kbh@pittsburghmarathon.com

Hello,

My name is Josh Johnston. I originally registered to run the marathon, but because of a knee injury my training was set back a month or so. Can my registration be switched from the marathon to the half-marathon? Thank you.

-- 
Josh Johnston

Retooling

I haven't written here for awhile because, well, I haven't ran in awhile.

There's still a constant dull pain in my knee whenever I walk around, but it's getting better. I keep telling myself I need to see a physical therapist (or really, all my friends and my parents are telling me this), but I never schedule an appointment. I keep thinking it'll go away and I'll be fine again. That probably won't happen.

On the plus side, I did run around 6 miles last weekend. Keith and I found a trail (or rather the rest of a trail that runs through campus) that made for a great run. We were going at a decent pace until Keith was distracted by some buildings in the distance. I'm not sure what that kid is thinking some times.

We ran about a mile or so down the trail until we realized we really didn't know where we were going. A guy walker his dog in the opposite direction told us the trail went all the way to the neighboring town, but there was a cross road a bit further on. We decided to run to that cross road.

It turned out to be a backroad entrance to a really upscale subdivision. I'm talking perfect green lawns, white shutters and SUVs on the driveways type subdivision. Keith and I had no clue where we were. So naturally, we took a left down a street we didn't know and started running toward nothing in particular.

Long story short, we ended up running through a graveyard. In the dark. I'm still not sure how that happened. Eventually we figured out where we were: We hadn't even left Kent.

Throughout all that, my knee was aching. We stopped and walked a couple times because of it, but I was able handle it. That's a good sign.

This morning I emailed the Pittsburgh Marathon planners to change my registration. I'm now officially running the half-marathon. I'm not giving up on my goal to run a marathon though, just setting more reasonable goals. 

Detroit Marathon anyone? I hear it crosses into Canada for a bit...

White flag?

I'm not sure I can do this anymore. I'm not even sure what possessed me to think I could run a marathon in the first place.

I've ran fewer than 10 miles in the last two weeks. On the good days, my right knee throbs with every step I take around campus. I just tried running a couple miles. Granted, the conditions were pretty brutal — windy, cold, snowing — but what stopped me from running was my knee. It feels like a doctor is taking a reflex test on my knee at every stride, except this doctor is using a small sledgehammer.

I have a little on the plus side of two months before the marathon. My longest run to date has been 12 miles. Since then, I've ran less and less each week.

I hate making excuses. Even more so, I hate giving up. But right now, I don't see how this is possible. My knee is just getting worse, and I have less and less time to run as the semester goes on. 

It was pretty stupid of me to think I could run a marathon anyway. I work close to 40 hours a week at the newspaper. I'm taking 17 credit hours this semester. I've never ran more than six miles in one go ever before I started training.

It's time to call in some help. I'm not going to give up. I need some encouragement. Anybody? 

The road and the dog

A friend of mine told me running down Meloy Rd. outside of Kent was dangerous. She said when she ran for the Kent State cross country team, they would get yelled at for running down the narrow, country road.

So of course I planned a 12 mile run which included 2 miles on the out-of-the-way road. Bad idea.

First, it was snowing on and off that day. The off was everything before Meloy. The on was the entire time on Meloy.

Second, we ran into the wind the entire way down Meloy.

And the worst part of Meloy Rd. ...

Residents of the road from Hell don't bother restraining their dogs. Not even freakin' invisible fences. I thought Keith was going to get mauled.

Luckily, his really loud yell scared the crap out of the dog. I was impressed someone so out of breath could yell that loud to be honest. I'm pretty sure the dog (I think it was a German shepherd, or Cujo) did a back flip.

Later on I started wondering what I would have done in the event of a dog mauling. Would I have ran to my friend's help and tackled the beast? Would I have sprinted to the house and alerted the owners of Cerberus? Would I have kept running down Meloy?

I don't really know. Hopefully, I won't ever have to.

What I do know is the next time I plan on running down Meloy Rd., I hope someone punches me in the throat. Like really hard.

Rainy day

Rain mixes with sweat as I labor through my sixth mile. The salty solution runs down my face into my mouth, sickening and yet invigorating me at the same time.

I started my run that day too quickly, but how could I blame myself? The 60-degree weather on a mid-February day beckoned my legs to chase the waning late afternoon sunlight. Even the wind couldn’t slow me down as my body, free from its prison of hoodies and jeans, flew past suburban houses with manicured lawns. Puddles left by the rain scattered beneath my feet as if they were fleeing from an unstoppable force.

But now nearing the end of my run, I was paying for my earlier overindulgence. My legs felt like cinder blocks as I charged up one of the final hills. The gently falling rain that had kept me refreshed now spotted my glasses, blurring my vision.

Still, I was only one mile away from finishing. And not even the most brutal of rainstorms or the most violent of winds could stop me.

Now only half a mile remains. The wind screams at me to stop, throwing itself into my face. Inside, I’m laughing. It’s an often-used trick by an old enemy and friend, one I’m all too familiar with. Digging down, I force my legs to move faster, my arms to pump harder.

The wind relents. It understands I won’t be beat.

Only the soft rain is present to greet me at my finish line. It sprinkles down onto my face, wiping the sweat away.

7 miles.

Ipod? We don't need no stinkin' Ipod

Where my mind wanders when I'm running really surprises me sometimes.

Sometimes I'm focusing on the road ahead of me, lasering in on every bend, every hill. Sometimes I'm thinking about girls (I'm a single, 20-year-old guy, what do you expect?). Sometimes I'm thinking about nothing.

A few days ago, I had the Ducktales theme song stuck in my head. Yeah, those Ducktales.

It's actually not a bad beat to run to. And I get to relive my childhood TV obsessions. There's really no downside.

This happens pretty often actually. I never listen to my ipod while I'm running. The ear buds just don't fit into my ears right. I blame Apple. 

Regardless, I almost always get a song stuck in my head while I'm running. Usually it's something kind of fruity too, like "Prince Ali" from Aladdin.

It's a good thing I usually run by myself.

Why run a marathon? Why not?

Since I meant to start this blog a couple of week ago, I'll back track a bit with my running.

But first, an explanation.

I started this blog to chart my progress for the Pittsburgh Marathon on May 3. Since late November, I've been running a couple days a week, increasing my mileage every other week or so.

My friend and coworker Chris Gates convinced me to run the torturous 26.2 miles with him via facebook status. I don't remember what exactly it said, but it was along these lines:

Chris Gates is running the Pittsburgh Marathon, who's with him?

To which I replied something like, "I'm game, let's do this."

Now, I had never ran more than 6 miles in one go before that fateful November day. But I thought, why not? I'll be turning 21 just after the marathon, why not see how far I can push my body? 

I don't want to be one of those middle-aged guys with a paunch and a fistful of "why didn't I?" questions. I don't want my greatest athletic achievement to be a mediocre high school track and field career.

I want to take advantage of the body God's given me. I want to see what my limits are.

So that's the skinny on why I'm running. I've been asked that a lot actually. I'm not as good with communicating my intentions by talking. Now I can just refer those people to this blog.

So now I'm running. Last Sunday I did 12 miles with my friend/running partner Keith. I honestly don't remember much of the run, except for the fact that I was really hungry.

And I mean hungry. Stomach-growling-like-a-cougar hungry. Hallucinating-you're-chasing-a-plate-of-spaghetti hungry. Wouldn't-mind-running-through-the-McDonald's-Drivethru-to-grab-a-value-menu-double-cheeseburger hungry.

It was bad. Both of us only talked about food for the last 4 miles of the run. The only thing keeping me going was the fact that our end point happened to be very close to a campus dining hall.

We got through those 12 miles in 1:47 (so about nine minute splits, score!).

A yogurt, cheeseburger, chicken sandwich, grilled cheese sandwich and powerade later, I realized what we had just done.

Nearly half a marathon.

Only 14.2 miles to go.

3 miles last Tuesday

The weather was reasonable. Not warm by any standards, but for a February day in Northeast Ohio it was tolerable. A slight breeze whipped through campus, but it wasn’t enough to deter me.

I had an hour and half before I had to be back in the newsroom. Plenty of time for a run.

Every run begins differently for me. On some days, my legs feel strong. Energy pent up through the day flows through my body. I am invincible. I can run for miles. Those are the best days.

Other days, my body screams in protest like a young boy who didn’t get his nap. I run for miles before the cranky child settles. Those days are the worst.

Today though, it’s neither. My body is indifferent to my decision to run. It takes a little coxing to get my legs moving. “Just a short run,” I tell myself.

A mile into my run the cold starts to invade. My breath billows out in front of me like a steam engine. My stride and breathing sound mechanical, a train chugging through the snowy suburbs. My arms work back and forth like pistons, driving my legs forward.

“Haaaa.” Thump. Thump.

“Haaaa.” Thump. Thump.

Cars rush by. Their exhaust mingles with the cold, clear air I had been filling my lungs with. Fast food restaurants across the street send the odor of cheap greasy tacos and hamburgers into the mix. The smell is nauseating. But I run through it.

I’m nearing the end of a gradual downhill slope. I’ve run this route before. My body knows what approaches. The muscles in my legs tighten, bearing down for the war.

“Not yet,” I tell my legs. “Just a little farther.”

I turn the corner. The hill ahead stretches a third of a mile and a hundred feet into the sky.

“Time to go, let’s go! Attack the hill!”

I’m no longer speaking to myself. My voice is barely heard over the cars rushing by. Still, my body hears the command.

My ascent begins. My pace quickens. The pistons driving my legs swing faster.

“Come on! Keep going! Attack!”

The hill steepens as if to drive off the attack. I drive harder. My breath now trails behind me, temporarily leaving a trail.

I’m now running at full speed. The hill seems to ascend straight up. After turning a corner I can see the summit.

And then the ice comes.

Northeast Ohio is not forgiving in the winter, especially to runners. Patches of ice cover the sidewalk. My strides quickly become evasive maneuvers, avoiding the slippery surface.

Finally I reach the top. As I slow down to a normal job, my breath still billowing out like the smoke from a steam engine. An engine slowing down, coming to a stop.

3 miles.