Am I Too Strideful?

And so the build up has begun. 

Iroquois Park, Spring 2012
(taken BEFORE storm, no debris)

Today's run: 6.7 miles. 56 minutes. Rain. Leaves. Debris. Thoughts. Jumbled. Slight pain. Moderate discomfort. Complete euphoria at mile 5 (finally!). Yes, the build up has begun! 

Two themes emerged today (well three really, my dad died five months ago today, so that has been a theme for the day, not relegated to my running) and they are about the debris in the road and the sense of accomplishment that lies in the completion of a marathon versus the pain. 

So I'll focus on the debris in the road, that's what kept coming back to me. 

Louisville, KY, experienced some heavy and sudden storms last night. I do all my training runs in Iroquois Park-Louisville's most beautiful and underrated park (Click here for Louisville's BEST park!). Not only did I grow up running through this park, it has largely remained unkempt. Or at least not overly manicured. You truly can feel completely removed from the city, and yet experience some of the best VIEWS of the city (future blog: The View You Have to Work For). As this is an old park, after any significant storm there may be anything from simply leaves to a large tree obstructing the path. Of course, on any given day there could also be deer, chipmunks, groundhogs/beavers/honeybadgers/clearlyihavenoidea and lots of things in bloom alongside random little streams. Did I mention this is my favorite place in Louisville? I feel the presence of God every time I'm on a run here. 

Downtown Louisville from Iroquois Park, 2011 (day before my dad died)

I was nearing the summit of an elevation today on my first loop (the park has a 3.3 mile loop at the bottom, I repeat it as many times as needed to get my miles ticked off). As if I needed any added challenge I came across a veritable minefield of debris. With oncoming traffic, I was left with little choice to but to slog through. So slog I did. Dodging this pile of leaves, that clod of mud. This twig and that limb. I got bent out of shape because I had to change my stride. CHANGE MY STRIDE I SAID! Every runner who runs with any regularity and distance gets into a stride. It doesn't change. I can tell you my per minute miles based on my stride. When Trino and I were running buddies, we could tell if the other was having a bad day based on their stride. Did I mention I HAD TO CHANGE MY STRIDE in order to avoid the debris in the road. Clearly, I was left unsettled. 

And then I thought. 

Some of the friends I hand with at Iroquois Park

How often do we get stuck in a stride. Nee, a rut? We go about life with the same speed as the day before. And the day before. And the day before. And then debris gets in the way and messes it all up! I suppose I did have some choices when I was reaching that summit today. I could have stopped and waited for the cars to move out of the way,  I could have trailblazed and went on through, I could have kept going and HOPED the cars would have stopped. But I didn't, I chose to change my stride. My feet struck the pavement in a different rhythm, I nearly stumbled, I felt out of sorts. Literally, I felt out of sorts for at least 12 paces until I regained my stride. 

And then I thought, am I so strideful that I forget to change and experience a new (and possibly better) stride? Literally or metaphorically, the question's relevance is the same.