Complete Rest

While being beat into submission by the heat this week I still managed to keep The Streak alive. The final tally was 100.8 miles despite running around and through frequent lightning and pop-up storms. Just yesterday, on the last outing to meet the needed distance, I was being pelted by progressively heavier raindrops when trying to run from the rainbow over this bridge (pictured above). Playing it safe (earlier in the week) I even signed up at the YMCA to log some distance on a treadmill. That's how it goes with this 100 miles/week goal for one year, there is no option to put off today's run regardless of the weather or "I'm tired." If one week runs short the whole quest is over, and an "Almost did it" attempt fades into "Oh well." Having just passed 4,000 miles (with only 3 more months to go) the drive to stay with it has even more momentum. But these happenstances and insights are taking a backseat to complete rest.

Yes, this has been the valued discovery over the last six days. It was while I was ravenously devouring a just-released-from-the-oven Biscuits N' Porn cheddar biscuit. Stop, wait, I have to share it was so fresh that you could watch the cheese spread and crystallize into a perfectly even distribution through a hefty and beautiful white flour matrix. Ok, back to the eating. I was clearly modeling a voracious raccoon who had just knocked over a garbage can and heard people nearby. Anyway, it was mid-third-bite that I paused for a moment, aggressively quieted my mind that was nervously trying to visualize the final six miles of this run, slowly raised my head, and allowed my eyes to glaze over. A mental coma then ensued that serenely blocked out the typical post-sunrise breakfast background humdrum of this frequented gem of a gas station-restaurant in the Outer Banks. Yes, there it was, the moment. I finally, without intention, released into the moment I am naming complete rest. It was truly its own nirvana. A state I had only been previously searching for and periodically appreciating in repetitive motion. But not now. Not in this moment. I was perfectly stationary in a laminated booth at a no-frills diner. After what I guess was the right amount of time to embrace this pause, this non-thought, non-reflection space, I returned to finishing the biscuit with a more patient demeanor. And the visuals of the next six miles didn't return...they just unfolded after I put one foot in front of the other again. See you next week.