The Fat that cries first loses!

I was on my long run today. I had to figure out 16 miles to go and how to get there. So I began at the Capitol and then went over to 11th Avenue, then up to the fire station. Then I turned around and then went back down 11th and then straight up City Creek Canyon all the way to the bitter end of the Rotary Park picnic areas, #30 to be exact. I looked at my GPS watch and it said 10 Miles. Nicely done Dave. So now it was down hill and back to the capitol building.

Inspector Clouseau was in my mind - with his Franch Accent and was lecturing me on the finer points of overshooting your goal distance. He was right. On the way down the canyon I got to Mile Marker 3 and an epiphany struck. "Dave." my thought started out. "do you realize that if you add three miles to the current mark, plus the one that you run back to the beginning stop sign that you will not run 16. Y0u will actually go further than planned." The thought was right. I ended up with 16.6 miles.

So are you ready for my running thoughts for the day? My first one is that sweat is just fat crying out for help. Each drop is like a little plea for help. SOS from that pork chop with the extra gravy. DOT DOT - DASH DASH - DOT DOT DOT DOT DOT (translated "Good Hell he is running again and all we have left down here is this Lemon Meringue Pie from 99'") Your body is scrambling, searching, digging, and discovering new little gems that have been overlooked for some time. I think my body found the secret Reese's Peanut Butter Cup that I downed a few weeks ago and sacrificed it to the furnace of desire that fuels the run.

Each drip powers another step and each of those steps draws you closer to the goal. When I was at my goal distance I found that there was a little bit left in the tank. I was already out there and running anyway. What is another 0.6 miles when your body is on fire, sweat flinging off your visor, and your legs have given up their protests because they know you won't listen anyway? That last 0.6 of a mile takes the last full measure of courage to keep the feet going, digging for that last ounce of desire. After all - you can do whatever you want for 0.6 of a mile. And when I ask myself what I want to do for the last 0.6 - I might as well run because the fat fears me.