Running Costume TBA

All right, I'm finally feeling better.  I think this weekend's long hike with my team really cleared out my sinuses, and made me feel all shiny and new.

Back to run-run-running around town, getting gawked at by all the locals.  They'll only be staring at me for another three months; I'm leaving this little rice paddy town at the end of July.  On to the next adventure.

I'm planning on traveling around Australia before I head home in August.  There's a big run in Sydney, the Sun-Herald City 2 Surf.  This is a pretty huge one; 67,000 runners in 2007.  Yeah, that's a lot.  I'm not looking for a fast time, although since this course is my first 14km, I will be getting a PR!  It's going to be more of a parade than an actual road race.  You know what that means, return of the costume runner!  This will be my second time running in costume, and this time it's serious.

I still don't know what I'm going to wear, but you can bet your bottom Aussie dollar that it's gonna kick some major kangaroo butt.

Running Kicks v. La Grippe

What kind of runner doesn't run for nearly 3 weeks?  A sick one.

Man, I have just been feeling doooooown this month.  I was sick one week, started to get better.  Then I went for a hike with friends and my symptoms became exponentially worse.

I know I could still run through sickness, and I have before, but my body's been really achey through all of this.  I want to recover as soon as possible; I've got a deadline looming.

See, I'm participating in the Oxfam Trailwalker 100km Challenge in May.  This is a challenge for teams of four to complete a mountainous 100km hike in less than 48 hours.  We also have a fundraising goal, dedicated to hauling in at least $300 each.  (Little help?...)  You can read more about the event, and where the money's going here:  http://trailwalker.jp/en

100km comes out to 62.1 miles.  That's longer than two full marathons, all on very, very hilly terrain.  I'm stoked, just as long as my flu symptoms go away.

Minivan Cherubim

I went out for 8 miles today. I had planned on running two 4-mile loops, but the first four miles were complete and total shit. A physical struggle, a psychological battle, and what seemed to be a chemical imbalance from hell keeping me down. So I decided to switch things up a bit, and try to kick myself into happy gear by taking another route for the last 4 miles.

For the first half of my run, I don't know what was up. My body felt heavy and uncooperative. Mentally, I felt discontent and angry, shooting scuzzy looks at the cherry blossoms I was passing.

"Screw you, sakura. You know, you're really overrated; your blossoms are already starting to look like shit. And in even in full bloom, you weren't much to look at. I mean, white? Come on, white? Is that the best you have to offer?"

I don't think I've ever felt that kind of anxious/frustrated/mad feeling while running before. Everything was up in the air for those first 4 miles, everything was getting on my nerves. I was mad at work, mad at home, mad at this run I was on. But for some reason, I just kept going.

At four miles, I switched to another route that took me west; toward the strawberry farms, toward the setting sun. I focused on keeping my pace, and tried to clear my mind. I loosened my shoulders, unclenched my fists. I let my hands swing past my body, naturally, with each step.

It was a mile to the strawberry farms, and by then I had calmed down a bit. I started my first loop, of three, around the farms; breathing, focusing on just pushing a little more to keep up this pace. This was a good pace.

On my second loop, I noticed a black minivan up ahead. It was stopped, and had its emergency blinkers flashing. As I approached, a little elementary school kid - maybe 3rd grade? - popped his head out an open window and yelled, "Gambare, Dan-sensei!"

I smiled and waved to the boy and his mother, who nervously bowed in her driver's seat, almost hitting her head on the steering wheel. "Thank you," I shouted. "Arigatou ne! Bye-bye!" The child slipped his head back into the vehicle and they drove away. I continued to wave as the kiddo stared out the rear window at me, shaking his hand with glee.

I couldn't help but keep smiling as I took one more quick lap around the strawberry farms, and made my way home. Thanks, kiddo. Thanks.