9 Perfect Miles

I am a closet lover of rounded numbers and even things.  This does not mean I am forced to wake up at 4:22AM because it's perfectly even or listen to the radio or TV on an even volume - what it does mean, however, is that 9 miles in 81 minutes, flat, makes me happy for several reasons - above and beyond how great the actual run felt.

This morning fit Nine, 9 minute miles into an almost effortless stride.  Few runs ever feel so right.  That said, I'm a big believer in embracing them when they do.  When you're perfectly hydrated, fueled by a banana and rising above the ridiculous humidity left behind by a nighttime storm, it seems that nothing can get in your way except you (and a few over-the-top rude bikers - by the way, guys, the path is there for all of us, I don't wear an ipod so I can hear you coming, I don't appreciate your horns or whistles, as the case may be, nor do I deserve your screams of "left" and "watch out." And to the one female biker that actually skimmed my left side today, some day you'll pull that nonsense with the wrong runner and I hope I'm there to see it).

As always, miles 1-4 were slower than miles 5-9.  I've found lately that, no matter the run (or day) I'm having, my body is slow to warm up and fall in love with an early morning run.  But once it does get loose, I've really been able to throw down steady and strong times without the aches and pains of last summer.  Peas & Carrots, while still in my freezer, remain a constant reminder of what could happen but are ultimately untouched.  On today's run, this turning point came on just after I crossed the Falls Bridge from East River Drive down to West River Drive.  Aided by the She Rox Triathlon participants, cheers and music, I picked it up, lengthened my stride and drove my pace down by about 20 seconds per mile.

The crowds, as they always do, sent me to daydreaming about what the Marathon will feel like in November; how it will feel to have such support from thousands of strangers and a handful of very important people following me through Philly with signs (not that I've thought about it).  Through the tents and water stations, however, West River Drive became what I love it for - silent.  Past the Three Mile Green House and the Waterworks, around the Art Museum Steps and toward the completion of my 9 perfect miles, I was consistent with my breathing and ready for more.  And therein lies the most important difference between August 2010 (immediately pre-injury) and August 2011 (almost one year out): last year I would have gone until it didn't feel good anymore; this year, I stopped on top of my run, still owning it, still in control.

Apparently, I've learned a few things and that is my 9 mile miracle.