Well... where to begin?
I think my pointless crush on one G. Harris is wearing off. I've been thinking of her less and less... but the way my mind (and/or heart, and/or soul, depending on your conception of the human intangibles) works is that you can only get over one crush by replacing it with another (just like an addiction, natch). I've had two dreams in two nights, each one featuring the previous unrequited love of my life, one S. Perez, in a small cameo role. And she appeared just as she did way back in high school, when she sat behind me in European History class and I'd spend all hour watching her reflection in my glasses (sneaky bastard that I was). She just sat there, first night on a park bench at night, second night having dinner with her old ex from three years back, and she spoke in her odd pseudo-British way, but I'd never remember the words... just the cadence of how she spoke, the beautiful syncopation of it. Just thinking back to those dreams makes me feel all fuzzy inside.
Second part of the day : after work, I decided to go running again. It had been a few weeks since I had last run... struck down by a flu that just wouldn't go away. Now that I'm no longer hacking up dark yellow phlegm with regularity, I decide to go running again - only one and a half miles, might as well ease myself beck into routine. I was getting tired of running and biking, anyway, so the layoff was nice. I dress in the requisite sweats (no more shorts - it's 38 deg. F out there, after all...), put on my watch, stretch, and head out on the path.
Cut about eight minutes and 1 1/6 miles in the future. I'm taking it easy, jogging, getting back in the flow. The turn home is coming up - once I make the turn, it's just over a third of a mile to my apartment. I check my watch : 5:56:46. I take that last step and turn the corner...
...and suddenly, I'm no longer running. I'm running. I've found that special place again.
It's hard to explain the feeling that I get when this happens. It's hard to get across, with just words... but I'll try. It's like... it's like a relay just falls in your head, a switch goes on, and your whole mind and body is electrified, bright blue sparks shooting through you, and
and you're dancing
, dancing like a cheetah
, life must have been like this for Barishnikov
, when he gets up on stage
and the adrenaline hits
and he makes that first leap
... the very air is working with you
, helping you move... it's not a control thing
. You don't control
, your mind
, your body
, the ground
, the air
, it all just decides to cooperate and work together
and it moves like a machine of excellence
, and containing an infinite reserve of grace
My arm reaches out without a thought and I slap the pole that announces that I have finished my run. I slow to a stop. And a huge weight comes down on my lungs - I can't breathe! I glance at my watch. 5:58:01. I am not surprised in the least. Taking off the five seconds that elapsed since I hit the finish line, I nailed off just over a third of a mile in 1:10, running at a pace that could have easily broken the current world record for the mile. I know, deep in my gut, that I'll never, ever run this fast again. And then I collapse on the ground as I pay for the pure joy I just experienced.
I don't get up for a while. I can't. I hurt too much.
This has now happened for the eighth time in my life. Twice running, once biking, four times (hat trick, plus one!) in karate, and a glorious once in a dance class. It only happens when it's something that I've worked on, something I've practiced into the ground, where my body remembers the movements it will make and I can just do it, where I can focus on the subtleties rather than say 'wait... what was next?'. And each time, it's the greatest drug that I've ever had. But this was the first time running or biking that it translated directly to massive performance gains.
I'm looking forward to tomorrow. I'm not tired of running and biking anymore. I can't wait to get on my bike.
It's been an interesting day, no?