I need a long run. You know, like the one that didn't happen yesterday.The one that I was choosing to blame on the awful air quality. I had been wishfully thinking that today's AQI would be better and that I'd be able to get that eighteen-plus miler in.
My first action upon getting out of bed is to check the current AQI. Dang: it is still in the red ('Unhealthy') zone. My second action is to begin gulping my coffee. And just like that, a plan begins to form in my brain. I will get a few treadmill miles in, but then still show up to run with my friends on the Lester Rail Trail. That way, at least I'll have some non-outdoor miles, and yet I won't miss this run with my peeps. I post a comment that I'll still be there but with curtailed pace and distance plans/goals.
I step on the mill at 3:45 A.M. It should have been earlier. I'm only able to get five miles in before I have to get myself changed (I'm dripping with sweat) and into the car for my drive over to LRT.
As I arrive at five, everyone is ready to go. I, alone, wear a mask, an N95. Running with a mask is a first for me. I don't mind it a whole lot. Until I do. That comes at around four miles into the run. It's getting really tough to breathe, and that's partially because I'm getting pooped, but also partially because the pace has quickened up. You see, I was no longer able to get up in front in order to slow everyone else down. Six was enough for the masked and the unmasked runners today. Tomorrow will be another day.
As I drive back home, I begin to reconsider whether or not to call the day's run done. I decide that it's not. I get back on the mill and run another seven miles, to get up and over eighteen total for the day. It's a long run of the poor but done variety.
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| Dan Horvath, Harold Dravenstott, Shannon Barnes |
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