InnerTeub

God, it is so lonely running on winter mornings, up before the sun, fingers too cold to tie your shoes, your lungs catching on the chill, legs creaking in protest at moving through the cold, the early. I never feel more like a runner than I do on these mornings, shivering,  making deals with myself that would take me back inside, warm in my house with puppy and coffee and husband. I never usually let myself win these deals, I usually remind myself that if I can make it 10 minutes down the road I’ll be happy that I did and I won’t want to turn around, my legs will warm up and my breath will move freely and I’ll feel part of the world, no longer just me in the morning, getting to see the day begin the way only other runners do: sleepy, quiet, stirring. A secret part of the day that is just for me, for us, as we move through the cold morning, our cheeks red, our toes shivering.

Sharon Olds must have been a runner; her poem “Sex Without Love” (which is – obviously-  not about running but might as well be) captures so perfectly what it is like to run through these winter mornings.

like great runners: they know they are alone
with the road surface, the cold, the wind,
the fit of their shoes, their over-all cardio-
vascular health–just factors, like the partner
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the
single body alone in the universe
against its own best time.

On those winter mornings, those first steps out of the house that require every ounce of cajoling and demanding and motivation that I have, I do feel like it is my body, alone with the universe, against my own best time. And that is what I love about running, when you get beyond the shoes and the watches and the music and the race schedule: it is just you, moving through the world, on your own. I love that part of the day, the intense me-ness of it all, a piece of my day that I get to have before I give my energy to work or to the house or to the many things that pull my focus, pull my time.

But I also love the part of the run when you catch another runner’s eye and nod, when the sun starts coming up and the morning isn’t dark around you anymore and the scenery begins to sharpen and focus and it’s not just you running through the dark but you running in the world, and then when I get to my doorstep and my dog is waiting to lick sweat off my face and I’m bubbling over with a run’s worth of thoughts to share with The Boss, and we’re figuring out our plan for the day, buzzing around, changing from run-uniform to work-uniform, and that’s when I know I’m more than just a single body alone in the universe, and I think to myself that God, yes, it IS so lonely running on winter mornings, but in this crowded and busy world, maybe being alone for a little bit with the road surface, the cold, the wind, isn’t such a bad thing after all.