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.