Start. Stop. Start.

The first thing to know about Slow Road is that it is slow. Years slow. Almost a decade slow. And yet, it grinds. And before you know it, you’re moving again. Slower than slow. Slower than you want. Slower than you think necessary. Everything starts from stopped. No matter how fast it goes.

Cold Slow Road

It's just a touch colder than 21 degrees outside. I can hear the soft howl of the slow road alongside that of the winter wind. I tell myself I need a mask to run in this. It's just an excuse.

Principle Of First Steps

There is a natural order on The Slow Road. One must do the first thing first. If one wishes to rise early and go to the gym in preparation for the road ahead, then one must first practice rising early.

Five Factors of Slow Road

1. Breath

Even the slowest road is filled with hardships and pitfalls if breath is not an ally. The processes of the body during a run are a symphony of rhythms which must be brought into concert with one another. Breath is the metronome of the body. Breath must be regarded as paramount.

2. Terrain

Terrain is not just the ascenscions and declinations of land. It is the totality of physical circumstance surronding the slow road. Air temperature, wind, time of day, and natural obstacles offer infinite variety and challenge. Learn to appreciate the circumstances when running the slow road.

3. Distance

One must learn the meaning of distance as the body understands it.  Distance is typically understood as an empirical calculation of time and space.  But when you run or even walk a distance, your body begins to understand it as cumulative and serial movement. Your mind can be overwhelmed by thoughts on the significance of distance. The body must become arbiter of the distance so the brain does not interfere. After completing a distance, concerted attention must be paid to how the body feels.

4. Brain

The brain can be the greatest obstacle on a long and arduous run. The brain knows that you aren't running from or toward anything and it sees the energy as wasted. When it comes to energy expenditure, your brain is suspicious and miserly. There exists a psychological moment on the slow road wherein the brain can no longer be obeyed.

5. Will

It takes more will to push yourself out to the gym, sidewalks, or sharply crunching gravel on a Tuesday night than it does to run a marathon. The marathon, half marathon, 10k, or 5k is not the journey. It is the reward. By pushing yourself onto the slow road you have already overcome the greatest challenge the slow road can offer.

Machinations.

My cohort's previous blog compelled me. I had to get a run today. Though a myriad of distractions devoured whole hours of my day; I finally pushed my way through the YMCA doors at about 8 p.m. The rain kept me from seriously entertaining the notion of running outside.  The interior of the YMCA had undergone a fairly extensive remodeling and I found myself in what looked like a big box discount exercise equipment showroom. 

Even the large whiteboard used to sign up for cardio equipment had changed. It required a moment or three of serious study before I felt I understood the complexities of the system. I swore the new whiteboard made time a dependent variable somehow. This was not the place I'd taken my unsteady first steps as a runner 2 years ago. This was an alien landscape. 

Confident I'd initialed the correct squares; I stalked toward a dormant incline trainer.  I took that familiar step up and hit the large green "Quick Start" button. A slender strip of white paper affixed just above the display screen distracted me so thoroughly that I stumbled forward as the treadmill awoke. The white paper demanded to know: "Are you signed-up for this machine??" The double question mark irked my writing sensibilites. That is not an appropriate demonstration of emphasis. 

I jogged on and the little white strip persisted in crying out it's single angry edict. I tried to draw myself inward and focus on my breathing. It persisted. I tried to imagine the energy flowing through my body. The note insisted I justify my presence. I tried to concentrate on my muscles moving efficiently and rhythmically. The little white strip of paper dereed itself the magistrate of the treadmill and lord over all who would dare to step foot on it.

And then, as if through devine intervention, my mp3 player played Preston Epps'  Call of the Jungle. This nearly 13 minute journey is less a song and more a sampling of the most primal thoughts of the human mind. Glancing at the  electronic clock, I reasoned that this song would take me all the way to the end of my run. 

Aroused by the music, my lesser evolved feelings crawled out from the shadows of my psyche. Their shining and predatory eyes glared at the paper. They would not be ruled by words. My run is my dominion. 

Within my run, I am the only soverign. My runs have ruled through the streets of Oshkosh, Chicago, and Monterey. I have conquered pavement, concrete, gravel, and ornamental shrubbery. I've marked the borders of my empire with Brooks shoeprints. As I move through the streets, I am a prince.

But here in the obscene and absurd space of the Y, I am lorded over by whiteboards, scraps of paper, a clock, and the machinations of the other denizens. This is not the freedom and power of my run. This is not an escape from the endless numbers which shape the course of my life. This is a twisted compromise. 

I should have run in the rain. I would rather rule in the rain and dirt than struggle in dry and flourscent lit sterility.

"Are you signed-up for this machine??"

No.

All hopeful running slogans are saccharin

When i need to go for a run, but depression is making me hide in the house, my dog gives me this look that says "hi, let's go run". That's the kind of shit everyone wants to see on a stupid poster or in a magazine ad for some shoes that probably won't help you go faster or farther, but will match the running pants you've already purchased from that company.

When i am running with that same wistfully looking dog, we pass a lot of strangers. She is happy to growl and lunge at any of them that look at her crooked. That is something no one can accept on a poster or in an ad...people will hurt you and gladly...stranger=danger. When we run late at night and see a shadow in the near distance, i will imagine that i have to run for my life.
That shadow is a zombie, a drunk driver or some raper-murderer and i need to move my ass NOW! i have sometimes run so late and so tired that this pretending has felt real and i have run til i cried...and survived.

Walking

Every run starts with a walk. I am no where near my best running condition and I am coming up on the Oshkosh Half Marathon. I just need to start walking. Sooner or later, I'll be running again.