Am I allowed to steal the title of a book that I never read? A woman I dated years ago loaned me her copy or Murakami’s memoir. She ghosted on me, so, I threw it out. (She ran track in college. I went running with her one time and she went really slow for me. As we sprinted to the end of the run, she showed me a little of the speed she was capable of and it was impressive.)

I’ve been thinking about how I’m going to fit in a five mile run tomorrow and simultaneously thinking when the hell did I become the kind of person who wonders how he’s going to fit in a five mile run tomorrow?

I ran five miles on Monday, then a Prospect Park loop (a little over three miles) last night. I’m going to try for a long run on Saturday and I want to fit another medium run in before that. Saturday’s run will be about ten miles, which will be the longest I have ever run in my life. I need to keep logging miles in preparation for the half marathon that’s a little over three weeks away.

In elementary school, we had to run a mile (it was actually four laps of a soccer field) once a year. Running was hell. Being slow provoked so much anxiety. I got lapped by the more athletic kids. Ted Cook. Jason Jones. They ran six or seven minute miles. It took me well over ten. Maybe, like, twelve?

In high school, I ran indoor track for one season. I did it to improve my soccer game. After a few weeks of practices, I started to see improvement. The sprints got easier. I could even see a difference when I played soccer.

I went to one meet and competed in one event. It was a relay and I was at the end. The other kids blew me away. I was so much slower that I heard kids on the sideline laughing at me, “Yo! You got first place!”

That was my only meet. I didn’t run track that spring or ever again. My soccer game returned to its normal, average state.

I think it was eight or nine years ago that I decided to do Couch to 5K on a whim. The idea of running a mile or two miles outside and not on a treadmill was terrifying. But I did it anyway and I’ve run sporadically ever since.

There’s something great about attempting things that you know you aren’t particularly good at.

I stress over comedy. I stress over writing. I stress over storytelling. I stress over my job. These things are important to me. I want to be good at them. My sense of self is connected to those things.

If I run slowly, whatever. I got outside and I got my heart rate up.

I have to say, though, my ego is creeping in. I’ve run a few races now – enough to track my times. I ran a 10K last Saturday and my time was a big improvement over my first one. So, now I’m thinking, can I beat that time? Can I replicate that pace for the half? 

Funny how that happens. In order to do anything, I need to have a goal, and I need to have a plan laid out for me to achieve that goal. And inevitably, when I follow it, I think how do I do this better? It’s my left brain run amok.

For now, though, I just need to find time for a five mile run tomorrow and try not to think too hard about the fact that I’m now the kind of person who chooses to run five miles even though he already ran this week, hell, this month.