After 100+ straight days of over 100 degrees in Texas, break through finally arrived — Today’s high was at only 93!
When I ventured out this morning at 5:30 am, I was pleasantly surprised with the slightly chilled weather. I’d expect many runners on the road who were just as ecstatic as I would be. And I was right. Later that day my Texas running friends filed exciting reports about today’s run via email, Facebook or blog.
Ten minutes into my run , I turned onto Russell Creek Park’s running trail. As I joined the running crowd, I could hear footsteps behind me, and detect the silhouette of runners in front of me. Today I’d have a few opportunities to pass and plenty of opportunities to be passed.
Passing a runner, I thought, would be a climax. It is through a long act of creating the mood, anticipating the move, and building the momentum. The result would be a climax of exhileration. Indeed, it felt like almost an eternity to shorten the distance between me and the runner ahead, no matter how short that distance would be. I’d lower my chin in order to focus my sight only a couple of feet in front of me. I’d swing my arm to power the legs to churn as fast as possible. And I’d pay attention to my stride so that each would cover the longest distance possible. Then I’d look up. The distance did not seem to be shortened. Feeling deflated a bit, I’d repeat the same routine again. The next time I looked up, the distance seemed shorter. After repeating the routine several times, I finally managed the distance to be short enough that I felt like breathing on person’s neck.
After all these drama, I thought I’d enjoy the climatic moment of passing the runner ahead of me. Not exactly. The act of passing lasted a mere split second. Just as I was behind the runner breathing on her neck, a mere stride later, I passed her. Unless I looked back, I’d see nothing except hearing her footstep fading slowly.
Being passed had a similar anticlimactic sensation. I’d hear a faint noise behind me. Soon that noise became distinctive enough. Slowly that noise was too loud to be mistaken as anything but footsteps. Soon the huff and puffs of breathing joined the symphony of footsteps. Suddenly I’d felt a breath on my neck, and a split second later, a running figure passed me.
Three miles into my run today, I had been passed several times, but only managed to pass a couple of walkers and a runner couple. Soon I came to the corner of Russel Creek Park where marathon strength training took place. The runners were about to wrap up the strength portion, and were ready for their 3-miler. Before I even came close, the faster runners already took the trail and soon surged out of my sight. Two other runners were behind me. It didn’t take long for the guy runner to pass me. He was at least 6 feet tall. I had to take 2 strides to match up his one. He soon disappeared from my sight.
I started to hear the faint noise, then it became distinctive footsteps. Soon I heard the breathing. Very soon, a girl breathed on my neck and passed me. Just like that – no drama, no climax. She also surged up to catch the cluster of runners ahead of us.
What a climax and anticlimax!
The odd of my passing vs being passed was extremely low. I wouldn’t even bet money on myself for passing a runner. That does not bother me. I run for fun. If I ever pass a slow runner once in a long while, I consider it a luck. And I’d take a moment to enjoy the triumph, even though that moment was only a split second long.
Today I ran 6 miles. I have 633.5 miles to go.
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Article source: http://kscat.wordpress.com/2010/08/26/climax-and-anticlimax/