trudge, trudge, streaka!

The last two posts left draft to Publish kind of like how on sinister mornings, it feels great to start a long run a little fast, until it is no longer the beginning, and we poor sloggers reenact a solo version of the Muppets', "Trudge trudge, streaka streaka". Things happen, we move on, and edit, if we can.
I'd love to be able to edit my running - or even understand it. There can be streaks of days where I slow down: today's run was meant to be a mere 20 miles with over half at marathon pace: it was all I could do to just finish it, though, *clears throat: today began as "a sinister morn'".
These have been strange days: in this little city, things have been exploded underground; the pollution count has been "very dangerous"; many mornings begin with a thick fog that brings icicles to the trees which during a long run melt into hail while eyelashes freeze then shed water like tears.
It has been hard to keep up with the training plan, and for the first time ever (minus days lost to my knee contusion when I was tripped in that incident), I skipped a day - and in spare minutes, like during showers, I've wondered to myself why I am so insistent on running longer distances, made more complicated by the fact that I am just so slow. I am writing this post in a bid to come to terms with this stubborn part of my personality.
The answers I came up with were: having an emancipating activity, where my achievements are mine alone and not contaminated by the emperor of work's new toxic clothes, and the myriad associated endeavours that make absolutely no sense (in noble terms - I am guessing there is money at the end of those means: strange "economy", for lives are being spent).
Second, like Murakami wrote it better: for some of us, running is the only sport that gets our bodies into shape, for whatever reason that is. I mean that less for aesthetic reasons than as a sign of generally "feeling better".

This week, it was really hard to get going, thence the skipped a day (which became two rest days in a row, since I rearranged the schedule), but I am not sorry for the feeling of accomplishment I gained by sticking to the plan as far as possible.
Also, and answer number three, there was a day I was joined by a little dog that ran about a kilometer with me. Later, I met it again and it seemed to be the ringleader of a trio of far larger dogs. It was so happy to see me, it jumped all over, leaving muddy paw marks on my tights and vest - and bringing me so much joy through that encounter.
In certain lines of work where one is almost always engaged, it can be hard to justify time away since time is so hard to come by (this month, in addition to lectures and related miscellany, I have to edit my translation of an academic work, read two books, compose an abstract, heigh ho). But what's that picture worth, devoid of streaka and sundry street dogs? Hardy har, I would have nothing to talk about!

Brush: Misprinted Type.
Observant readers will notice new running shoes: my old Perseus Zoom 33s lasted around 1,200 miles,
breathing the last of their last cushioning effect last week.


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