Being here in Nebraska has made me realize something I often forget in Alaska: I hate running on roads.
I mean I hate it.
The roads here in town are picture-perfect, with a canopy of trees hanging over the streets and old-fashioned houses with sloped yards.
I know that the streets are pretty. I appreciate that they're pretty. Heck I even think as I'm running: Wow, this is pretty. But I still hate running on them. I hate having to move over for cars. I hate worrying about having to move over for cars. I hate not being able to get into The Zone and stay there.
I truly think that if I had to run roads day after day, I would stop running. I would swim instead, and I'm not even that great of a swimmer.
Trail running has spoiled me. Or maybe Alaska has spoiled me, because I didn't mind running on roads as much in Seward.
|A road in Seward, not sure which one. Third Ave.? Second Ave.?|
Sometimes I worry that I'm not a "real" runner. I'm not sure what a real runner is, exactly, but I'm sure it's someone more committed and dedicated than I am, someone who would be happy to run on any surface, regardless of traffic or scenery.
Sadly, I'm not "that" type of runner. I hate running roads. I don't care much for racing. I don't even notice how fast I'm running most of the time.
I just like to run. I like splashing through mud and smelling the ground and hearing the wind and feeling my legs strain and jump and leap over rocks and fallen trees.
But, damn it, I'm a runner so I'm putting on my shoes and readying myself to run eight to 10 miles over cobblestone, picture-perfect streets in my muddy (Alaska mud!) adidas trail shoes.
Happy Thursday! Hope everyone else is in a more optimistic frame of mind.