Doldrums

I am ticking towns from Maine off the list. I have taken the first miles west and, currently, I am heading south down Route 11, The Aroostook Scenic Highway, from Ashland to Sherman.  From there I will continue south on 11 to Medway and turn west again toward Millinocket . In Travels with Charley, Steinbeck started his cross country route in a similar area. If memory serves me, he got very bored. My intention was to profile all of these neat little running communities across the country; however, this is not working out so well. I am finding that there are not a lot of runners where there are not a lot of people. This utopia of welcoming running communities does not exist.

This is not to say that Maine has no welcoming running communities. The people that run that I have made contact with are welcoming. Even the people who are not runners were very welcoming. It does give way to a math lesson. Let’s say 5% of the population runs. That means there are less than 1000 runners in all the cities I have profiled. Total. The only way I am going to find these people is through the internet, and, then they have to want to be contacted, and respond. They also have to love running so much they are on the internet talking about running, or in a race result. My chances of finding one of these people every 20 or so miles is slim. Steinbeck became frustrated with Maine, and I will admit I did too. Then I got to thinking about it on tonight's four miler. How could I get frustrated with a place for not having what I wanted. It's not Maine, it's me.

I am coming out of a poor running month. The week before the race I look forward to most, I got sick. Nothing major, just a cold with some body aches. The timing was terrible. I was very well prepared, but no running for eight days before the race and I had to bail on a run that was to be a 5k does things to the mind. Still not feeling well the week after caused me to just plain not go on two more. My elder daughter is giving us a difficult time with going to bed and there were some nights that five miles at 10:30 seemed impractical. Family reunion, hangover(s), allergies, the list goes on. It adds up to a lack of motivation.

Tonight marked one of the changes in seasons for me. Starting with the first of the year, inside, then as it warms inside nights and outside weekends, then as it gets lighter outside all the time, then as it gets darker inside nights and outside weekends again before returning inside. Tonight was back inside at night. While this does yield some flexibility in when I run; I don't like it. 'Tis the season of late summer doldrums.

The fitness center smells the same. This time of year there is the additional smell of chlorine from the pool. I did not want to be in there and as I started the mill it made a noise like I had been the last one on it so many miles ago. Mile one was creaky, for both of us. In mile two there was no joy in Mudville. I wanted to stop, the inferiors were restless. Virtually silent when I am outside, they reared their ugly voices. I consciously made the decision to go on. It is not like I was killing myself, either. I could sustain this pace for a long way if I needed to. After I hit half way the tide started turning. I had the thought about Maine vs Me, and I thought about the drudgery of the winter season, but the more I thought about the more I seemed like a tour de force. I can tick off towns in Maine and be out of there by Thanksgiving. I can register for a couple of races and my training will take care of the mileage. If I use the mill and schedule properly I might gain some pretty good speed over the winter. By the time I get to the Hudson River Valley I will be outside again.

Doldrums broken, motivation rejuvenated in four easy miles. Maybe the mill is not so bad after all. All those good thoughts happened on the mill. As I left it dawned on me that I still loath the mill. All of that happened in my head. My head happened to be on the mill. My head loves to run, no matter where.