I was out in Central Park for a long run the other morning. In the sport of distance running, adjectives that pertain to distances and speeds are all relative, so let me clarify. I’m training for a 50 mile race this summer, and have been very diligent in changing my definitions of short, medium, and long. These days, a short run (which I try not to ever do) is anything under about 9 or 10 miles. A medium distance run is something in the neighborhood of 10 to 15 miles, and a long run everything else. For this particular long run, I set out the door aiming for anything above 20 miles.
On that particular morning, the crispness of the onset of Spring was in the air. There was just enough humidity and warmth in the air to draw out people in short sleeves, but still enough coolness to partner them with a fair amount of those in tights and jackets. As a runner, this is the perfect climate for a long run; cold enough to not be inhibiting in any way, but warm enough to enjoy being outside with the hope of better things to come that is embodied in the first few days of Spring. Crisp air, brightened sun, and a few bold flowers blooming early.
The patrons of Central Park shared my enthusiasm for the changing season, as they were out in full force. A busy day in Central Park is a unique setting; one where the tether of the real world has been severed in a peaceful scene of serenity, all the while being besieged by the largest and most vibrant metropolis in this hemisphere. It’s a fleeting escape from reality, but a functional one. Additionally, it’s the only piece of nature accessible by the millions of residents of Manhattan, and as such, the main loop around the park is more like a circulatory system of runners, walkers, and bikers than it is a running path.
It was into this atmosphere that I set out for my big run of the week. But getting to this point wasn’t a short path. Since my last long run just 6 days ago, I’d put in close to 55 miles of work. I’ve gotten to the point in my training plan where I really don’t want easy days anymore. When great painters were in their prime, I doubt they ever looked at any piece as just a time killer until their next great work. I don’t want to take any individual run for granted or not feel the strengthening burn that comes at the end of a difficult effort. So, as I set out on this particular long run, my legs were already burdened with the accumulated fatigue of a long series of hard working days.
As I progressed through my run with a methodical economy of movements, I felt the benefit of my months of training up to that day. Every time I stayed out on the trail for just an extra mile or 15 minutes, I was purposefully augmenting every muscle in my legs like steel hardening in the furnace. Now, 14-15-16 miles deep into a run, the task still felt as simple as ‘focus on your form, keep your good posture’. At this point, I felt I was a product of my own making (at least as far as my conditioning went).
It was then, around mile 16, that I made a spontaneous, yet critical decision. I approached a fork in the trail. Veer to the left, and I’d continue for another revolution around a 1.5 mile loop. I could do this loop a few more times then turn towards home and finish right around 20 miles and satisfy my goal. However, veer to the right, and I go down a southward spur of the trail that would take me much further from home, and commit me to many more miles. By taking this route, I’d be both accepting and subjecting myself to a hearty surplus of miles above my stated goal. I’m glad to say I veered to the right.
The instant before I chose my direction, I was apprehensive and lazy – I was content with the shorter route and coming in right at my distance goal. However, that would have been the easy way out. We, as runners, don’t take the easy way. By taking the longer route, I faced a larger obstacle, greater discomfort, and a more trying experience overall. When I finished it successfully (as we all almost always do with the right application of mental fortitude), I was a better runner for it.
We don’t take shortcuts. If we did, then why are we even running at all? That’s like cheating in solitaire – it’s pointless and self-defeating. Taking a shortcut while running is succumbing to your perceived limits, be they a 3 mile run around the neighborhood, which could have been turned into 3 and a half; or 20 milers that could be defining experiences in a training cycle with a simple and split second decision to go the long way. You save perhaps a few kilo-calories of energy and a couple of minutes, but the opportunity cost is a workout that exceeded anything you'd expected or thought possible.
Keep on movin',
-John
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