(Entering Prospect Park, Brooklyn in the Evening)
Invariably the beginning of my run elicits pain and discomfort.
Pain in my left foot reminiscent of the plantar fasciitis I ran with last year; cramping in my toes first in one foot, then the other; aching in my knees; my lungs burning as they get used to taking in more oxygen faster.
This is the time when the temptation to give up is at its strongest. (a second wave of that temptation comes at about mile 10)
But if I just keep going, soon the pains subside and I find a rhythm. And once I am there, I am able to enjoy all the things I appreciate about running.
The sights and sounds in the parks and streets – The trees silhouetted against the evening or morning sky. The drums in the Drummer’s Grove of Prospect Park, the people dancing along.
The other runners in all ages, shapes and sizes; some pushing strollers, others accompanied by loyal four-legged friends.
The playground I used to take my kids to when they were toddlers. I smile at the memory and at the thought that I am teaching them a valuable lesson by running this race.
The families on the grass – relaxing, playing, laughing, eating (not so good when I am hungry)
It warms my heart.
And I am reminded of why I am running, and the people I am running for.
And I am filled with gratitude.
Gratitude that, unlike the many patients fighting to stay alive right now, I can indeed, run!
The body rebellion is squashed! And I keep on running.
12 miles and counting!
62 days to go!