It's goofy, I know, feeling amped up about a run. But it's a long run. Very long. I'm ratcheting up the marathon training, and tomorrow will be my first 20 mile run. 21, actually. The marathon is the Whistlestop on October 11th (www.whistlestopmarathon.com), and it goes from just east of Iron River, Wisconsin, along a rail-bed-now-recreational-trail to Ashland on Lake Superior's Chequamegon Bay. The trail is all crushed limestone, going through mostly forest and a little farmland, and in October it's beautiful - the leaves are changing, the air is cool and dry, the trail is isolated and the race small enough that there's a marvelous quiet to run in.
But tomorrow's run is strictly urban, though it will feel like country in some spots. I'm running from Lake Minnetonka along the LRT southwest corridor (another converted rail bed) to the north end of Lake Calhoun, then south to Lake Harriet and east along Minnehaha Parkway to Minnehaha Falls. There I'll meet up with our running club, the Minnehaha Marathoners, for our annual Lake to Falls pizza picnic. It used to be that many club members ran from Minnetonka to the falls, but we're all getting older and things don't work as well as they used to. For old time's sake, I thought I'd renew the tradition at least one more year.
I run alone and without music. There are a few of us purists out there. Not that one way is inherently any better than the other - I've run with music and loved it. It's sort of like heroin, I suppose, or cable TV. Once you start, you can't stop. I'd just rather not be dependent on something with batteries that could run out and spoil my run, and I don't like to carry stuff with me, generally. But mostly I like running without people and tunes because I like the connection with my body and the world around me. I like hearing the loons when they call each other around the lakes. I like hearing the cardinals and trying to find the spot of red in the trees. I like the sound of the wind through the tall poplars along the trail. In the winter, I like the crunch-squeak of my shoes on the snow.
So tomorrow is 21 miles, followed by pizza at the picnic and Cliff's cookies, and a rest of the day filled with well-earned lying around. And a cocktail at cocktail hour, of course - strictly medicinal.
