Phife Dawg passed away today from from diabetes related disease. He was 45 years old. One year older than me. What comes with his passing is grief and sadness, but also the self analysis that often comes with the passing of someone other than you. The more I run the more I think about what I put in my body and the more I think about it the more terrified I get. Am I going to sustain myself on a diet of mung bean sprouts and almond milk for the rest of my days? Will I be able to live life well and still house an occasional pizza? Will the glorious bacon cheeseburger never be able to come knockin' on my mouth-door again? These are some serious issues compadres...
I started running on earthen paths where I can find 'em in Prospect Park. It feels a little unnatural, but I like that each step feels a little different. When I do this I see the image of me running easy much clearer in my mind. I take smaller strides as I am mindful of twigs, roots, pebbles, dog shit and such. My time is still shit, but today's five miler really felt GOOD. I felt that I had enough gas to run 3 more miles, but used some restraint and thought of my Coach shaking her head in frustration as I push myself too hard, too fast. For you Coach I show restraint.
I don't think I am ready to embrace the intervals, or hills, just yet. I want to focus on distance and form. When I can run 12-15 miles in a go I will dedicate a day a week to work on speed and endurance. I am not competitive by nature and I think my goals should reflect that... somewhat. Maybe a more realistic goal is 25 miles a week? I could build up to that.
I went for a drive to Bay Ridge today for lunch at my favorite Szechuan place. They must have hired a new cook, because it was kind of mediocre. I guess i'll have to find joy in brown rice and steamed vegetables after all.... or not.
RIP Malik Isaac Taylor
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