Just another love note to running; not epic poetry
There was a light frost on the ground that gave the brown grass a grayer tint and confused the boundary between sod and sky. The air was crisp and held breath up for closer examination. The sun lurked beneath a thin layer of clouds, but even in the ticks before the 8 o'clock hour, evidence of February warmth began to peek through.

My friend and I were about to embark on a 5-mile race on a country road in Maryland. I don't have a lot of friends who would wake up on any day looking for a race. I consider this another reason to be thankful for this one. I knew from our run on Thursday that he has a spring in his step that doesn't seem to match his age. My stride feels weary, but he bounds. Just before we made our way to the starting line of the race, I assured him that if he felt up to it he should run on ahead of me. I don't often make such assurances, but I consider it a mark of maturity that I made this one. He knew my goal was once again to break 30 minutes and improve on the performance of 2 weeks ago. We ran together slightly off the lead pack for a little over three quarters of a mile. Then my friend bounded. I watched him pull away almost instantly. He crossed the mile around 5:43. I crossed 10 seconds later in 5:53. Sighing to myself, I considered how this race was beginning just like the last one.

Singing John Denver's song "Country Road", or at least two lines of it, country road, take me home, I made my way up the hills of mile 2, as my friend pulled further away. I could see him cross the second mile right on pace at about 12 minutes. I, on the other hand, had slowed to something around 12:22. I briefly thought of my 4 and a half hours of sleep the night before, the fruity but stout Belgian beer I had enjoyed and hopefully flushed from my system, and the insane barking of the otherwise charming lead singer of Sunny Day in Glasgow. I am not the runner I once was. He would have gone to bed early. With the turn on the out and back course looming, I banished the thoughts, waved to my friend and crossed the halfway point at 15:30.

Downhill started then. It was pleasant in a pounding sort of way. The country road now was taking me home, or at least in the right direction. I don't really recall what my time was at mile 3, though speculation and extrapolation leads me think that it was right about 18:30. I'd sort of lost contact with my friend and thoughts of him were momentarily shelved. I had more immediate goals, like overtaking the man in front of me and moving this race along. Gaining on a man in black, I was startled when out of the corner of my eye I saw a large black and brown dog headed in the direction of the course. With a burst of speed from sheer terror, I sped past my aim exclaiming, "That's motivation!" as the dog turned to parallel our route along what I can only assume was an electric fence. That burst of energy and the downhill nature of the course allowed the gap between my friend, his current running group, and me to shrink noticeably. As I ripped through a 5:25ish mile, cruising now at 23:52 with just a mile left, I began to have visions of meeting my goal and overtaking my friend.

No slouch was he, as he was able to find his way out of the group he had been with, and let them crumble behind him. I passed them as well, gaining slightly, but realizing that there was still a large challenge left before me. As the gap closed a little more, I began to feel the distance I'd made up so quickly down the hill after mile 3. Then I began to feel the upward slope toward the finish that seem to be the sadistic trademark of the race planners of this particular club. It was nothing like two weeks ago, though my mind did pause to remind me of that. Still, I asked my legs for more, but they were not particularly interested. I'd closed to within 10 yards or so when I spied the finish. With 200 meters to go, my kick was almost non-existent and it was matched (easily? He politely won't say.) by my friend. He finished in 29:28 and I in 29:36. We ran together for something like 6 minutes, but in the true spirit of competition, I believe we pushed each other the whole way. I look forward to another opportunity for personal records, for friendship, for competition.