“Come on, feet…” and Rain Running

I love Halloween. I love David Bowie. I love stories with strong messages about dedication, friendship, and personal endurance.

If all of these things do not add up to The Labyrinth in your mind, I’m so sorry, but we are going to have to work on our friendship. It’s not impossible – I’m friends with Sox fans, after all – but it will need some attention.

The Labyrinth, of course, is not reserved solely for Halloween, but as my small sidekick has taken a recent interest in spooky movies, I took it upon myself to introduce her to my favorite Goblin King. He scares her just a bit, but she still loves Ludo and the music (bless her, she is absolutely my offspring).

Rewatching this, one of my most beloved films, through the new eyes of my daughter made me hear a line I hadn’t really paid much attention to in the past. As Sarah is about to enter the labyrinth and musters her courage, she says “come on, feet.”

That, I naturally felt the need to analyze…

Since becoming a runner (and wow, I can actually say that now, sans irony…) this past April, I’ve noticed so much more about my body’s will versus my mind’s. Yes, I fully understand that such a statement will sound cheesy and ridiculous to many. Go with me for a moment, though.

If I put feet to pavement (or dirt or gravel or mulch) for long enough, my mind tunes out completely and my body just does its thing. I may be aware of the components of my body hating me, like my knee aching or my fingers swelling, but overall, my legs pretty much tell my head to shut up for long enough for them to get done what needs done.

There are also the days that my mind is totally into it and my body disagrees. It’s as though I am hyper cognizant of how much I’ve grown to love running, but my stomach or lungs or legs decide they’d all rather be doing other things.

I feel like today helped me come full circle with that concept.

About two weeks or so into running on a regular basis, it rained. It wasn’t bad at all, just sort of misting, but my body had me convinced that the couch was a better option than the trail. This is the part where my mind said, “Um, no, sweetie. You said you would, and now you have to. Get off your butt.”

Today it was raining, and definitely not in the refreshing misting way. My leggings clung to me in a way I’m unaccustomed to my clothes clinging, I had no fear whatsoever of dehydration, and my stride was amazing due to all of my very creative puddle hopping efforts. By the fourth mile, I truly couldn’t tell what was sweat and what was rain.

And today, in spite of the rain, was a rare day that found both my mind and body in perfect sync. My head was super into “okay, great, let’s rock” and my legs started getting into “yes, we get to move” (because, yes, I do sometimes think of them having their own personalities, it’s fine).

A bit of a rambling explanation that ends with this: there will still be days when my body is good to go while my brain is other places. There will still be days when the opposite is true, and I will have to force my hands to get my shoes on and say aloud “come on, feet”. As long as I land there eventually, and as long as, by the end of it all, I am still delightfully exhausted, I can say “come on, feet” all I need to.

Next half marathon is in three weeks, and I want to beat my time by ten minutes.

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