The Art of the Run

Last week I ran 40 miles in training.  That's the most I've ever run, in one week, period.

I loved every minute those 40 miles.  It became a personal goal for me to run that mileage and do so with grace and (relative) speed.

This week is a recovery week, giving my body time to heal and to prepare for another push in the mileage. My first run this week was a 2 mile recovery run (aka 11 minutes per mile).  I'm not exaggerating when I say I "didn't break a sweat".  That speed, for that distance, just doesn't feel that hard for me any more.

My initial thought was that 2 miles seems silly.  Then I moved my focused to how I "felt" during each step of the two miles. Was I  running lightly, carefully, gently?  Was my body awareness intact? Were my legs tired from yesterday's 17 mile effort?  Did I feel any strain at all?  In short, I realized that it was practice.

When I learned to play the guitar, I practiced scales at each lesson. Each note played in a particular pattern taught me the notes and trained my fingers to move with grace and ease.   As improved on guitar, I found that practicing the scales had changed from a tedious exercise to a familiar pleasantness.  These slow, repetitive movements were my foundation for building speed and awareness.What was once a strain during my early learning, became an expression of art.  Each note, as I played, rose to it's highest manifestation ringing out in a moment of golden perfection.

Those steps I took last night, on the treadmill, to cover 2 miles in 22 minutes or so, were my scales.  Simple, direct, slow but the foundation for all I have started to do and all I expect to achieve.  There is no "junk", no "throw away", no "purposeless" run.  Each step is a note in the art of running that I create.  Each run a song that I perform with my mind and body in concert.