Last week I passed the 1200-mile marker towards my 1400-mile running goal for the year. I fully expected to be behind and running like crazy all through December. But for the first year I’m way ahead.
My mileage goal progression by year was slow and steady:
Setting a goal like this may seem arbitrary, but it works for me. Once I hit 1400 it’ll be about seeing just how many more miles I can do by end of year. Sort of. The total number doesn’t matter as long as I hit my goal. What matters more is trying to make each run count for more.
Slight efforts make a run more memorable, more like a journey. When I write down miles in the log, I add a specific note – usually my favorite part of the run, a tidbit of overheard conversation, the song in my head or anything else that happened. Otherwise the runs start to blur together and I don’t want that much time of my life to be all blurry. Which brings me to David Bowie.
Go on and take a moment to appreciate, but no drooling on my blog.
When my sister said she was taking me to a labyrinth I had something very specific in mind. Was it too much to ask to be dropped off in some magical maze to the Troll King’s Castle where David Bowie circa 1986 waited for ME? Yes it was.
We arrived at a church ground with no sign of Bowie. Which was probably for the best, but still.
This is the meditation labyrinth. It’s beautiful and tucked away but easy to find from the street. You’re surrounded by brick walls covered in ivy on three sides and the street end has thick hedges so it feels private once you’re there. From what my sister said it’s for walking meditation, a way to reflect or pray while following a path that spirals and folds. Churches often have them, as do some hospital grounds and gardens, apparently. I’ve seen similar designs on walls and flooring before and never realized it had a mindful purpose.
You follow it in then out again. I meant to reflect, but the physical act of following this path held my full attention. This was my first time walking one like this and I found it surprisingly calming.
Until we move I’m mostly running the same routes through Prospect Park again and again, always looking for a different way to make it feel less stagnant – reverse! figure eights! repeat! – but sometimes running the same path can feel like following a labyrinth. I know it so well but it’s different every time because the day is different and I’m different. That goes with the territory of being moody by nature; it’s a gift and a curse.
The walk back from the labyrinth took us over a bridge and small lake. My sister treated herself to a 99 cent ice cream cone, eclair ice cream, and I enjoyed what will probably be one my last cups of iced coffee for a while. Once the leaves turn, I’m all about cider, fresh grape juice and spiced wine.
In conclusion, it looks like Bowie and I are never going to happen. Again, that’s okay because MoonPie wouldn’t like that very much. Also, I’m looking forward to these next 200 miles even if I already know exactly where they will take me. I am not at all secretly hoping the final stretch will be run in my new town, but so far we’re finding a lot of scams and not so many legitimate places we like.