This post was intended to just be part of my weekly account of running, but I began to babble and put it in its own entry.
AM- 4 miles- Went to brave the cold air at Al Sabo. Just a light spitting of snow when I started, but turned into quite a little flurry by the time I was done. My legs felt fairly beat from yesterday's "easy run"(those bastards), so I couldn't really squeeze much speed out of them. Anything in the 8min/mile range hurt, so I saved some for the speedwork tonight. I was feeling a bit down. I've been training pretty regularly with a group of great runners. Why aren't I "there" yet? This feeling didn't last long, as I became a little ashamed of the little pity party I was throwing for myself. It was then that I seemed to wake up. I was cold, hurting a little, and not really focusing on where I was. My eyes were removed from the trail by the sight of the flakes of snow blowing in the wind. To see the snow falling onto the recently exposed mud and grass was new and exciting to my eyes when compared to months of snow landing on more snow. The contrast was something to appreciate. Watching the grass get ever so slowly covered in large flakes distracted me from how my body was feeling; I was watching something bigger than myself go through its own changes. Spring is here, and winter is still trying to hold on. I found a nice spot to sit- a pad of reddish-brown pine needles under a tree that borders the fields- and sat there for about 15 minutes. My new shelter was small and sheilded me from the wind and cold. It was easily the best part of the outing and the run served the purpose of warming me up enough to allow me to sit in a snow flurry with shorts and a 1/2zip shirt covering me.
I realized that I don't come out to the nature preserve for great workouts. I enjoy making frequent trips there so that I can be familiar with the outdoors. Watching things change and getting acquainted with those that were here before us gives me an inexplicable feeling of being home and feeling safe. Though I've made myself somewhat comfortable in my current house, the feeling of Home is absent. Even when returning to my parents' house for weekends and holidays, the security seems to have disappeared from there too. I'm a guest, no matter where my mail is sent. The experience of transitioning from a child to an adult is something I've avoided for some time now, but it's happening, ready or not. Spurred on by the notion that Home isn't the place were I keep my possessions, but the place that beckons me with feelings of comfort and security, even if it doesn't have and address That place for me at this point in time is without walls or a roof. In this time where security is absent, we find comfort in ourselves instead of our surroundings. For me, Home is where the restless feeling subsides for a while.
I suppose this coincides with my last name literally translating to "restless wanderer" in Scottish mythology. Ain't the internet wonderful?