Catt Scratches

Today, it rained a most of the day. From around 2:00 until 5:00 I drove the marathon’s route, and followed the mile by mile description from the website.  I confess that I am daunted.

There are some pretty stretches of road. After all, it is Maine. But the part that sticks in the mind is The Somes Sound Tree. It stands on the left side of the road by the water like a promise. It brings a smile to your eyes and lifts up your shoulders. When you see the tree, you want to make it proud by running the next 12 miles.

Maine must have cleaner air than Chicago and maybe that gave me a boost that I didn’t realize. The terrain is different as well but that didn’t make the  physical task of running more demanding than I thought it would. I think what got me was the length. It’s 26.2 miles. That’s one mile after another after another after another after another and then twenty one more anothers and two tenths of a mile more. That’s the challenge. That’s the sneer of the Beast. It’s a goddamn long race.

There is so much here that is psychological. It is in fact, all in the mind, you know. That’s why I keep running. That’s why I keep looking for little advantages here and there.

This morning I bought some more running gear that I thought would help and truly, I think it did. I bought a lighweight jacket with a hood. I mean a featherweight of a lightweight nylon jacket and a couple of stretchy tank tops. I paid too much for them but they seemed worth it. The jacket did keep me warm on my run.  The tank absorbed the sweat without making me feel cold.

So it rained. It drizzled. It fogged. This was no fog creeping in on tiny cat feet; it was a fog wearing Paul Bunyan’s boots. It was beautiful, like they call Ireland: a terrible beauty. Nature in your face. Miraculously, it stopped raining by the time I came home. I thought maybe I wouldn’t get a run out of the day but by 5:10 or so, I figured I could put in a couple of miles. Silently, I thought, if I run, I can have lobster and white chocolate blueberry cheesecake.

I put my running clothes on for the second time that day. I didn’t think about it. I just started running once I got off the stairs. I turned the corner and then I was behind someone who was smoking a cigarette! I cut out onto the street and kept going along Main Street. I kept the pace slow, I thought. Just fighting for endurance. One foot in front of the other. Don’t think about any mile other than the one you’re doing. I passed the hotels going out of town, the gas station, the ice cream store and the baseball field where you can see the stars on a clear night. More stars than I’ve seen in the sky anywhere outside of the Sawtooth Mountains. Then I crossed the street to run on the sidewalk. I felt good really going out the first rise out of town. It was nice. (It’s cool about running that when you think about it afterwards you savor it.) The rise was a little scary to think about but I kept my head down. The woods were beautiful in their wetness and greenness. The leaves looked almost unnatural. So I kept going past the Ocean View Drive In, the condos, the Jackson Laboratory. I saw the Acadia Sieur de Monts entrance and then the lake on the right and Sargent’s Mountain on the left. The book tells it’s cold by the lake and it is. It’s moist and chill. I kept going and I went almost 3 miles. Then I crossed the road and made the journey back.

It was pretty easy to run the three out of town. I think once I stopped and gave a window to my body to feel exhaustion or ache. I started the run back but it was a spotty run, not a thing of beauty at all. I ran and walked, ran and walked the first mile – mile and a half back,  and then  I ran most of the rest of the way. I stopped for five seconds on the edge of town, just to feel my calves. Then I finished.

When I got back to my room, I peeled off my clothes piece by piece. Each article was drenched. My scarf was the biggest surprise. When I peeled it off, it no longer had the qualities of fabric. I hurt from hip to calf on the right side mostly. I couldn’t move for a while.  I ate a  lemon flavored Greek yogurt, some lime taco chips. I drank a blueberry pop. I dropped off while I watched TV and answered emails. Then I went out for dinner.

The first day,  then, went well. Six miles. I faced the beast. I numbered its miles; I contemplated its complexities; I looked at its threat. I took my first swing at it.  I’m still scared. I keep waiting for the fun part. I think, I fear, the fun part is when it’s all over and you laugh at the beast over your shoulder. 

I have to get stronger. There’s always tomorrow. I didn’t get to eat lobster and white chocolate blueberry cheesecake yet.