{cue music The Crystal Method Keep Hope Alive}
The Lions Gate bridge was close. Lighthouse to Lighthouse … really? I can make it. Can I make it? Don’t puke, don’t puke, don’t puke. I don’t do speed work at a track. I prefer varying my intensity in nature with fartlek training. Random speed work coached by random fast songs on my mp3. My running tunes are varied. Slow for meditative, relaxed running. Fast for fartlek training. A fast song might be three minutes or a double-extended dance version. Brutal. Twenty-five minutes into this run and my muscles were warm and loose. I ran around the bend of Lighthouse Point and past Totem Park as the first few notes played. It started out slow. Coldplay? Moby? No wait… The Crystal Method. Keep Hope Alive. Extended version. Almost seven minutes. After 35 seconds, the song sped up. My mouth opened as my nose could not keep up. My hips got lower, pushed forward. My spine straightened and lengthened. My shoulders pushed down. I inhaled through the nose. Exhaled through the mouth. Next -- one breath in, two breaths out. The seawall seemed to angle downward, like when you are walking down the hallway of an old building. I whipped around the tight curve at the Beaver Creek overpass like a ball thrown into the roulette wheel. I no longer made eye contact with people. I no longer said or waved hello. I didn’t even smile. I couldn’t. My brain reverberated like a subwoofer. I no longer looked at the few steps of seawall in front of my feet. I looked up. I looked only at the bridge. I looked where I wanted to be. Then, the music slowed. I slowed. Sh*t. I could hear my breathing. But I’m not there yet. Then, wait, a few more notes. Yaaaaa! My knees kicked forward. Inhaled once. Exhaled three times. C’mon lungs…keep up! My fingers clenched invisible dumb bells. My arms pushed forward with the moves of a P90X Tae-Bo workout. My glutes worked their ass off, so to speak. My runners are silent. No plodding up and down. It was all about forward. Huff. Puff-puff. Huff. Puff-puff-puff. I breathed in fire and exhaled flames. 30 seconds left. 30 seconds. 30 seconds. Forever. Like when you bounce around an occupied gas station washroom, waiting, waiting, waiting (C’MON!!!) for that person to open the door. There was that one moment, at around second 21 or so. My gut floated and I risked losing my green smoothie breakfast. And then, it was over. The song was over. I was over. I made it to the gate. A good marker. Not quite at the bridge lighthouse but really damn close. I walked in slow, small circles, hands on my hips. I squinted back at Brockton Point Lighthouse. The Kids in the Hall Head Crusher would’ve squashed that Lighthouse! I smiled. F*cking awesome. And then, a cool down with Coldplay’s A Rush of Blood to the Head. Ain’t that the truth. Comments are closed.
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