I've got that running feeling again. That feeling that lingers just below the surface. That feeling that something amazing is about to happen. That feeling of awe and excitement. That feeling of fear. That feeling of reverence to the distance. That running feeling.
I'm sitting in my hotel tapping away on the iPad. Cold pasta in the cooler. A chilled lite beer on the table. The hotel is ok, 2 1/2 stars I think. I booked it months ago. It's hard to get a room in this city on race weekend. It's clean but there Is a heavy synthetic 'wild flower' fragrance that caused me to sneeze when I first walked in the room. Makes me wonder what it's masking... don't think I want to go there!
I picked up my race kit at the Fargo Dome this afternoon. I'm # 128 if you'd like to follow me virtually. Currently it's very, very windy and hot, mid 90's. I'm glad we're not running today. Tomorrow is predicted to be a little cooler, but we will see what the pasta gods have in store for us mere mortals.
I rereading an old favourite, Haruki Murakami's What I Think About When I Think About Running and I came upon this gem
It's precisely because of the pain, because we want to overcome that pain, that we can get the feeling, through this process, of really being alive - or at least a partial sense of it. Your quality of experience is based not on standards such as time or ranking,but on finally awakening to an awareness of the fluidity within action itself.
Tomorrow I dance. I dance for you, I dance for me.
It's a good day to be alive and I wish you much fluidity