A strong appetite, average palate, and weak writing, mixed with outdoor adventure.

A strong appetite, average palate, and weak writing, mixed with outdoor adventure.

Monday, April 16, 2012

South Platte Half-Marathon

A cold morning, that was supposed to be rain splattered and breezy, instead broke partly cloudy with temperatures in the 40’s, almost perfect for a run. At 9:00 AM we were off for a brief tour of downtown Littleton and then a trip due north along the banks of the South Platte, 11 miles north to Denver. The South Platte Half-Marathon was on.

I ran solo. I knew a few people running, but they were all far faster than me, so I settled in with a new running playlist and let it ride. I came out fast, running sub-8 minute miles. The miles flew by, and the anticipated pain of a fast start never materialized. I crossed the finish line in 1:46 even, for a pace of 8:06/mile.

photoHamming it up at mile 11

Last year, the South Platte Half-Marathon was my first half, and far and away the furthest I had run. It was a run that was fueled by anger over my pending divorce, with every mile spent training indicative of some sort of emotional strife. Over the last few weeks some of this anger has returned, and I was not sure what to make of it, but it was channeled into a few long runs and a couple of nights of bad sleep.

Toeing the line on Sunday, it was not present. This run was an effort of awareness, to be light and smooth. To breathe. To enjoy the the stiff breeze, the snow covered hills to the west, and the feeling of a beard sticky with Powerade. To appreciate the slow nature of change, and be thankful for it. For once, being a guy that plods along felt like the exact thing, and in the exact place, that I ought to be.

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