King of Pain

"Out of the silver heat mirage he ran. The sky burned, and under him the paving was a black mirror reflecting sun-fire. Sweat sprayed his skin with each foot strike so that he ran in a hot mist of his own creation. With each slap on the softened asphalt, his soles absorbed heat that rose through his arches and ankles and the stems of his shins. It was a carnival of pain, but he loved each stride because running distilled him to his essence and the heat hastened this distillation."
- James Tabor, from "The Runner," a short story

It felt like a mini-training camp this morning, having the boys meet at my place; it had been ages since having company on a long run and this was a rare treat. Jim arrived early looking like a ninja in his black and grey adidas kit. Once the treble was complete, we set out, me intent on dragging Rumon around last weekends route and Jim along for part the ride.

The conversation flowed smoothly, and the miles passed by with ease; over the Johnson St. Bridge, and out of the city on the Goose and Lochside trails. It was about 47’ into the run when I turned to question Jim, “Dude, what are you doing? How are you getting home?” Rumon and Jim both stopped in their tracks seeing the humour in a normally uncomplicated question. Jim has been having tendon troubles for a few weeks now and if he was to return under his own steam, at this point, he was in for the long haul.

We parted ways with Jim behind Mount Doug, Rumon & I heading for the ever daunting Ash hill and Jim bee-lining for home. I truly hope his tendon wasn’t too aggravated, but if so, selfishly, I’m glad I was along for the ride. Seamus, the next drink is on me.

Fast-forward an hour; it is usually here that I like going within myself, taking pleasure in the loneliness and wallowing in whatever pain I’m experiencing, hopefully finding enough strength to finish my journey. Unfortunately, today Rumon wasn’t going to allow me to internalize the remainder of our jaunt, rather, he kept pulling me back to the present, asking very opened ended questions; ya’ bastard, where was my carnival of pain?

Training: an epic 2:32:19, AHR 137, MAX 165, 6:50 mi/pace. A note of caution was raised by my achilles at several points during the run and it was definitely sore at the end. This isn’t entirely surprising given I’ve just completed 10h30’02” of running for the week (including one rest day) totaling 150 km or 94 miles.