Losing Track of Time

Today's long run took Adam and me on the snowmobile trail toward South Range. I discovered this route last winter when I was doing long runs with Margot. It's a gradual incline all the way to South Range, and to get to town is about eight miles. We didn't have a big run in mind, and my plan outlined for me a recovery 8-miler.

But, I hadn't charged my Garmin. I couldn't find my other watch. Truthfully, I didn't really look for it. I just didn't feel like wearing Adam's ginormous watch, and he wasn't planning on wearing it, either. So we just left the apartment without anything on our wrists except our roadIDs. Since tomorrow is a rest day and I took yesterday off, I am jumbling my miles around a little. Basically, today's run was going to be a recovery of the mind more than of the body, and I was just planning on doing what my feet felt like doing. So we walked out of the apartment, our wrists naked, headed down our stairwell and out onto the newly-lined cobble streets of Houghton.

There's just something awesome about running without a watch strapped to your wrist. We left the Bike Shop at 4:30, but I am not sure what time we left the apartment. We didn't have any plans for the evening, so we could be out as long (or as little) as we wanted.
We didn't really talk much either. I listened to Adam's breathing. I listened to my own. I listened to the acorns crunching under my feet. I was surprised when we got to Old Mill Road, which I recalled from memory as typically being the 25minute mark of my runs. I practiced running down the technical, rocky 100m-long hill and waited for Adam at the bottom. We didn't have anything planned for the evening except dinner, and we weren't sure what we'd be having yet. So, on the run, we discussed that a little bit.

A: What sounds good for dinner?
M: I was just thinking about that.
A: We have beans.
M: Mhm.
A: We have pasta.
M: Mhm.
...pause...
M: I'll take care of it.
A: Okay.

We kept trudging along the sandy path until we felt like turning around. We peeled off the trail and ran on the road for a few miles back to the Lakeshore Path. Just one foot in front of the other*. We passed Karl on his rollerskis and walked up the Huron Street hill back to the apartment, laughing at the angry driver (the only angry driver, of the three in downtown Houghton). Then, I hesitated, but did end up looking at the clock as I walked by to take a shower. We were out for a little over an hour, which lines up well as an 8-miler... but I don't really care. I didn't even write it down in my training log.

*On my TweetDeck, I just saw a friend (@NYCe) post this message: "I love just "going for a run." no watch, no prescribed distance. just one foot in front of the other. I am so thankful for this gift."