The Solitary Runner

I think my flatland legs are finally beginning to recover their mountain strength!  Today I ran six miles, all my myself, and it was one of those rambling, wandering runs that I love so much.  I began on the usual route, but at the top of Chestnut Street I departed from pavement and climbed around Lower Lake Road, and then across Gibson to the top of Harris.  From there I circled the business district of Town, going down Spring Street and then back up the entire length of Main Street, which I love when there is little traffic - past all the shops and restaurants, past the late-risers coming out of Buck's with coffee to go, past stately Highlands Inn, and all the way back around Fifth and Chestnut.  I did not even think of looking at my watch until that point, and realizing that I wanted a mile or two more, I took a right on Fifth and found myself climbing "Monkey Hill" on Hickory Street.  Then past the ball field, all the way up Chestnut, and around once more.

Six miles.  I did not plan out a route, so every turn I took was completely by whim.  This is not easy to do unless a runner is by himself, and perhaps this is why so many runners do not want company.  As I have said before in this blog, I do enjoy the company of other runners.  There's something almost biblical in it, after all:

"Let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works:

Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together,
as the manner of some is; 

but exhorting one another."
- Hebrews 10:24-25

But I love days like today, too, becoming a kind of running heretic, departing from the normal route and answering to no one, under the vow of silence, deep in my own solitary thoughts, giving thanks for returning strength, for deep breath, for the bright sun breaking out from behind the clouds.  Solitude.