Notes Along the Way- Week 10
Photo from scouting out the conditions for tomorrow's 18 mile Delaware River Loop Run.
It is now March and Spring's arrival is inevitable, even if tiny remnants of snow still linger and the landscapes are unconvincing. The daylight is noticeably stronger and I find my spirit waking up alongside it. Ideas for future adventures are popping into my head constantly. It is clarifying to recognize that winter's pull toward depression is a seasonal reaction, not my full mode of being. Right now it is damp and chilly, but I took a few minutes this morning to trim back dead growth in my garden beds, making room for the small green shoots already pushing through. That felt like enough.
There has been some drama in my running club lately, and I have decided to step down from my board involvement as a result. The details aren't necessary. What I'll say is that a personal conflict between two members, not even club-related, resulted in a deep division, and then one side made it very public in what felt like a power move during board elections. I had enough. I'm taking some time now to sort through whether the club still feels right for me. The question I keep returning to is a simple one: how much are we actually supporting one another as runners, and how much has it become a social clique?
All of this has pushed me back to a more fundamental question. What do I want from running in the first place? The answer I keep arriving at is: trails. More trail running. I want to be moving through trees, finding my strength in quiet places, not navigating group dynamics. I do like to be around people, especially like-minded ones, so perhaps this is a push for me to make more intentional connections.
Which brings me to the question I've been sitting with lately. With big cycling goals on the horizon, Unbound being the 200-mile gravel race in Kansas at the end of May, is running even a priority right now? The honest answer is that I can never fully let it go. When I'm cycling a lot, I miss running. When I'm running, I miss the hours I could have spent on the bike. I've stopped framing this as a problem to solve. The only answer that has ever made sense is to make space for both, even if the balance shifts with the season. A June trail race is tucked in my back pocket. I'm going to carry it around for a while and see how it feels.
Tomorrow will be an interesting test. I plan to finish the last of the Delaware River Loop Series, a grassroots event celebrating the spirit of running and the incredible resource the Delaware River and canal paths represent. Tomorrow's loop is the longest at 18 miles. I have no business running 18 miles right now. I haven't gone beyond 10 miles in a month, and these past few weeks post-Huracan have been deliberately easy: recovery runs, rest, letting my body catch up. I also carry a history of injuries, recurring glute and low back trouble, posterior tibial tendonitis, arch pain that sidelines me if I push too hard. And yet I wonder if the rest has actually set me up better than a traditional buildup would have. My legs feel fresher than they have in months. If that turns out to be true tomorrow, it will change how I think about training in some fundamental ways. We'll see.
Two things have stayed with me lately. Two weeks ago, I followed a seven-mile run with a seven-mile snow hike with my daughter Avery. We talked the whole time, the kind of conversation that only seems to happen when you're moving through something together. I am so glad we can share this. The outdoors creates conditions for connection that I don't know how to manufacture any other way.
And this past week, I ran a 5k at just under an 8-minute-mile pace. A really good pace for me, and more importantly, it felt easy. Maybe my running self has been here all along, just waiting for more room.
