I ran home from work a couple of weeks ago. I surreptitiously closed my office door and changed into my running clothes (am I the only one who uses her office as a changing room?). I put my shoes on. I put my Garmin - wait, where's my Garmin?
Duh. On the kitchen table, where I left it that morning. I had a very, very momentary feeling of "Oh, crap, can I run anyway?" before laughing at myself. I've been running for years sans Garmin, and suddenly I can't run without it? On a course I've run dozens of times?
Being without it was kind of liberating. Even though I wasn't sure of the Garmin at first (in fact, I hated it on my first run with it), and even though I don't use all of the data as effectively as I should, the Garmin is addicting. Somehow it's put itself on the same level as my shoes in terms of equipment I don't go without.
I'm not sure if this addiction is a good thing or a bad thing. For now, it's just a thing. I don't stare at it while I'm running and I don't even use most of the data, but it's nice to know that it's there.
MY QUEST TO QUALIFY NOT JUST FOR THE OLYMPIC TRIALS BUT FOR THE 2016 OLYMPICS IN THE MARATHON (to do this I will need to halve my marathon time)
On I went, out of the wood, passing the man leading without knowing I was going to do so. Flip-flap, flip-flap, jog-trot, jog-trot, curnchslap-crunchslap, across the middle of a broad field again, rhythmically running in my greyhound effortless fashion, knowing I had won the race though it wasn't half over, won it if I wanted it, could go on for ten or fifteen or twenty miles if I had to and drop dead at the finish of it, which would be the same, in the end, as living an honest life like the governor wanted me to. -Alan Sillitoe, "Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner"
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment