Monday I ran for 3.
Wedensday I did 4.
Thursday I did 3.
The only thought that really stuck out to me was: Was that all?
All of them were short compared with the 20 miles I did two weeks ago and the 18 before that. Dinky little runs that get you ready for the monster run that happens two Saturdays from now.
I think it is a bit like the lull before the battle begins.
There is quiet - relatively.
Whispers of impending trauma and destruction filter among the crowd.
And then it begins.
Running, walking, moving, going.
All the preparation and the buildup is coming to a resolution. What happens is the end result is that we have run this far together and then we really get to go and do what we have prepared to do. All of the pounding, grunting, sweating, hills, turns, and twists of the run have been in prep for doing something bigger. I don't think you go out with no goals. People just don't run somewhere because they want to smell new trees.
People do things for a purpose. Sometimes the purpose is a shallow and despicably selfish one. Mine is because I like to eat food and food likes me and likes to stay in the form of fat. Another reason would be the genetics of the whole thing. I want to run further than anyone has in my family. (Save my wife). I want to become a conquerer of myself. The doughnuts help that drive.
There is a science to it. Fat = Fuel. Fuel = burnable. Burnable = not needed. It is time to figure out that the fuel I give myself is not to be horded. It is to be spilt upon the road of tribulation. Death to the fat. Fuel to the fire. Fat men store no doughnuts.
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