What Are You Chasing?
I have been trying to take running a little more seriously lately (giving say 30% effort instead of my usual 1-2%.) This isn't really because I love running or anything only because it's a venting mechanism and corrective for my mental state and helps keep me grounded and as such is an essential practice. If I stop running for say more than two weeks, I can feel the darkness gathering like heavy clouds in the distance and letting that storm approach is not fun to put it mildly. So I run. To help keep me going I signed up for an upcoming half-marathon, which I seem to do every few years or so, and so am now once again formally training, running short runs several days a week and an increasingly longer run on Sundays. This Sunday's run was only 6 miles but as part of my renewed efforts I decided to actually wear a belt with a plastic water bottle this time to stay hydrated and to bring an energy gel to consume midway. Woke up before dawn and left the house, headed down to the Springwater Corridor, a trail that has no vehicles to contend with, only bikers and other runners, and began.
As I ran I contemplated a variety of things going on in my life, many of which lately concern routes and patterns and filmmaking and everything peripheral. I turned 50 this summer and it's put me in a predictably exploratory frame of late, reviewing the trajectories of choices made decades prior, sometimes in an unkind corrosive way, but mostly with a detached objectivity. It's also made me question some current practices, eg, why do I continue to throw money at film festivals and screenwriting contests? What am I chasing really? Why does an acceptance or denial have such power over me? and so on. I try to not really do any active thinking on runs really, just letting these thoughts wash ashore until the next wave brings something else to ponder. I ran to the turnaround at 3 miles, ate the energy gel and hydrated, and headed back.
Around mile 4, I was past the bridge that goes over the highway when just ahead of me another runner fed onto the trail from a smaller path that joined it, running in the same direction as me, but 30 yards ahead. Their pace appeared to be just slower than mine (which is slow) so I did a quick estimation: since I was energized by the gel and warmed up, I could step on the gas to overtake them. So I did. Having someone run right behind me drives me bananas so I kept the pace at a higher level for a bit, exerting myself more than I probably should have, to put distance between us and eventually settled back into my standard pace. Then I was reminded of a moment earlier in the month when I got passed by some annoying runner guy (one of those dudes decked out in all the hardcore running accoutrements) and how after he passed me I instantly went oh yeah? internally and attempted to match his pace for a bit just to show him that I could keep up with him (note: He was long past me and clueless to my feeble efforts). I wondered if the runner I had just overtaken had a similar distaste for being passed and was possibly now gunning for me. No, there’s no way they could have caught me, I thought. But moments later as I slowed briefly to take a photo of the rising sun on my phone (below), I could hear the runner running just behind me, on my heels, no doubt ready to oh yeah? me. I instantly upped my pace again to put space between them and me. I ran on for another quarter mile, certain they were long gone. But the song on my headphones ended and before the next one started I could hear that, no, the runner was still right behind me, matching me footfall for footfall. Goddamn, I thought, they are right on me. Keeping this fast pace was starting to wear on me but I refused to relent, I refused to stop. No matter what I am not going to let this runner pass me I thought.
Up ahead, a woman was walking her dog on my side of the trail. She saw me coming but did not move, necessitating me to move to the other side as I passed her. This required me to look behind me to make certain that no bikers were coming but it would also give me a chance to look at The Runner. I was annoyed by their dedication and respected it at once. Maybe they liked me overtaking them? Maybe they were using me as a pace runner? Helping them to achieve their internal goals? I then looked over me left shoulder as I moved over for the dog lady and saw that in fact no one was behind me. No one was ever behind me. What I heard and mistook for footfalls just behind me I realized, was the water in my bottle sloshing side to side. No one was on my heels, no one was using me as a pace runner, no one was there. I laughed out loud with a sharp ferocity and the woman with the dog looked over to make sure I was okay. I kept running.
