Despite the title of this post, today was not a day with more hours, or even with more perceived hours. I was not awake longer than ordinary, and I did not suffer more than usual.

Instead, “longer” refers to the length of the run I went on. And the comparative -er is not in comparison with previous runs in aggregate; rather, it is only in comparison with the run I went on yesterday. Which is to say, “I ran further today than I ran yesterday, and today’s post is fairly short”. No more information than that is intended to be conveyed by the title and, as far as I can tell, no more information than that is conveyed by the title.

In addition to running, I ate three square meals, read some books (I’ve been hopping between two of them over the past several days, a strategy that sometimes feels useful in theory but not one that I’ve ever made work), followed some sports, spent time with my family, went on a walk, typed some stuff, and watched a TV show (again with my family – rarely do I watch non-sports TV of my own volition). Today didn’t feel busy – and, quite honestly, it wasn’t – but now that I record these mundane activities in type, it’s looking at least a little busier than I thought. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. Probably neither. Moving on.

Well, now it’s time to write about the run. Today, like yesterday, went well, and today, like every day except for yesterday, was run well before dusk.

Since I felt healthy enough, I opted to mix some fartleks into the middle of the run.. This is a strategy pioneered by competitive runners in Sweden, where, roughly, the runner runs at a very quick pace for a fixed amount of time or distance, before running slower than normal for a (usually longer) fixed amount of time or distance, then running quickly again, and then running slowly again, and so on.

The fartleks went well. Thankfully for frogs (and for myself), I was in the “rest” portion of the fartlek as I ran by that cattails-heavy span which yesterday had the leaf-frog. Today, I saw neither frogs nor squishes. Good.

Today, I saw neither frogs nor squishes. Good.

Save the first mile, which appears to have been mis-recorded by my watch since I guarantee you I did not cut through the middle of several blocks, which I would’ve remembered and which would’ve meant that I somehow kept an easy 6:30 pace while hurdling several fences (due to the misrecording, the pace was likely a little overstated but certainly possible), I held a fairly consistent pace.

This is a none too easy feat, at least for me. Too often, I set out with the thought, “I’ll keep it easy today”. Then my watch beeps for the first mile, I look down and think, “Oh, sometimes first miles are fast; I’ll slow it down”; then it beeps for the second mile, too soon again; another failed attempt at pace revision follows, and the third mile passes quicker than it should. As I work toward my fourth mile, I do slow down, though not out of choice but due to the invisible hand of exhaustion pulling me back with every step. The run is fine, sure, but some small part of it is somewhat ruined.

Today, there was no invisible hand. Instead, save that first mile (perhaps), every mile passed at that ideal fast-enough-to-get-faster but not fast-enough-to-tempt-injury pace.

The enduring memory from today’s run: Seeing the shadow of my running self.

My favorite shadow from today was when I glanced to the left and saw my hair, like the headdress of Kokopelli, bouncing against my head, its shadow and mine dancing in profile along the fence beside me. (This description was not the product of some thesaurus-based analogy hunt; I literally looked over and thought, “Yo, I really look like fluteless Kokopelli!”)

I glanced to the left and saw my hair, like the headdress of Kokopelli, bouncing against my head, its shadow and mine dancing in profile along the fence beside me.

Kokopelli

Kokopelli, who, were his flute removed, looks very roughly like the shadow of a running me projected against a fence. (My hair is kinda long and fuzzy right now!)

To me, the best, coolest shadow is projected against a fence. For some reason, it’s captivating to watch my own (though, more accurately and less conceitedly, the human body’s) efficiency: legs lifting not too high and kicking back not too hard, and arms parallelling my body like the coupling rods on a train, moving enough to drive forward but not so much as to expend unneeded energy. And a fence is the best medium against to view this smooth motion: unlike the ground, which distorts the body into some pulling, twisting, stretching two-dimensional print that looks very little like a person, the fence’s vertical orientation captures a perfect cross-section of myself and my forward movement.

Tomorrow is unlikely to contain another extensive meditation on a run. My sister feels like traveling again, and I’ll likely join.