You be strong woman! Continue!

I got passed by a Kenyan today. Twice. An actual Kenyan...not a speedy fast figment of my imagination. And when I say passed, I don't mean once coming and once going. I mean the guy lapped me. (He's a runner on the local university team.)

I get to qualify this by saying that I was running a 1.25 mile loop in a local park on a gravel trail, and he was doing some sort of inner loop on the grass (cross-country style), so I don't think he was actually doing the same distance that I was. But whatever distance he was doing, he was doing it a heck of a lot faster.

I got out of work late today, pulled on my running shorts (yes, shorts in February), and walked out to my truck debating all the way there whether or not I should just head home. I was pressed for time, and by the time I got to the park where I wanted to run, I wasn't sure I'd have time for even a three miler. With the Flying Pig coming up, though, there isn't much wiggle room for missing runs, so I hit the trail.

Initially this post was going to be about the running monologue in my head while I run in a park. My brain wants me to say these unfiltered thoughts to the people I pass. "Really, those Skecher shape-ups aren't doing a thing for your ass." "I'd kill for that pace." "Buddy, lose the fleece...it's freaking 60 out here!""Hey, dog friend." "What's with the side to side arm motion, dude?" "You. Are. Badass." These comments are usually interspersed with my own comments to myself. "You do love hills. You really do." "Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast." "Tuesday night tacos?" "Relentless forward motion." But then he showed up. The Kenyan.

I was coming down into a little mini-valley...down to the bottom, through the scoop, and right back up again. I had just taken those few sweet steps where forward momentum and downward momentum somehow combine to make the running feel effortless, and I was about to start the grind up a 1/3 mile long hill when I saw him coming out of the corner of my eye. Fast. Feet kicking up. Smooth. That sweet spot feeling immediately disappeared, and I just wanted to stop and watch the poetry in motion. He was unbelievable. He said something to me that I didn't hear as he passed, and I said, "Go, man, go!" and he was gone.

On the second loop, I didn't see him coming. Through the sweet spot again and about twenty steps up the hill, and he was behind me again (very briefly). "You had to catch me on the hill twice," I said cleverly as if the hill was what was making the difference...not my 10:42 pace. What he said made my day, "It's good. You be strong woman! Continue!" And he was gone again.

New mantra. Thinking about putting it on my shirt for the Pig.

You be strong woman! Continue!