The hardest part

Every morning I forget how it is.

I watch the smoke mount

in great strides above the city.

I belong to no one.

Then, I remember my shoes,

How I have to put them on,

How bending over to tie them up

I will look into the earth.

- Charles Simic

I geared up my work game and my training game in February, teaching all day every day, hitting the body of the training cycle before two half-marathons in April and a marathon May 16 (or, tenweeksandfivedaysfromthismorningat8am). Right now I’m traveling to Göttingen every day at 11 to teach a bunch of Economics majors how to write. This means I’m getting up early and throwing myself out the door for training (Fact: I'm writing this blog post in running tights). Fortunately, the light is returning to the north, and the sun’s been breaking through mornings, and with it a combination of amnesia and self-reflection. The hardest part is usually getting my shoes on.

Using the embarrassment of a shitty winter race to get me focused, I’ve been giving running the time it needs. Training’s been consistent and I am starting to relish rather than dread workouts. The old spring’s back in the legs, the easy runs are easy, the long runs have bite.

Yesterday I popped off a 30min tempo in the early sun, and for the rest of the day it buoyed me, the feeling of ripping, actually running. I’m going over my next races in my head as I run. For the first time since October I feel like I’m going to be able to really race again. It took awhile.