In college, particularly around the time I was training for my first marathon (spring of 2000), Team Stick used to run about 5 miles together on Monday afternoons. Somehow our class schedules allowed us all a free afternoon, and we chose to spend it running. We called it "The Monday Run." It was a short jaunt off campus, heading east on roads dotted with cars and featuring occasional glimpses of Lake Menona. I think it was on these Monday runs that we really got to know each other; though we primarily talked running and training, we also shared stories about current personal challenges, fears, successes and accomplishments. I remember one particular Monday run where the final mile erupted in the kind of sustained laughter that continued to burn your abs for hours. Sticks, you know what I'm talking about (ahem, Mama L:)) I cannot believe these runs took place thirteen years ago!
Yesterday, I went on a sort of Monday run. I was solo, but it was the kind of run without borders. The mileage was about the same as it was all those years ago on Mondays - 5-6 miles. The pace was unknown but had that perfect mix of effort and relaxation - which is exactly how I remember those runs. It was also late afternoon, when the sun was tiring and starting to settle down. Even though it's only a day later, I hardly remember what I thought about yesterday, though I did liken it to the Monday runs of yore. Everything in my mind was jumbled and thoughts darted here and there - exactly how my college self would have been. But in the end, everything ended up back in order. I owe yesterday's moment of zen to my parents who spent the day with Baby. Simply priceless. Just like those Monday runs of the past.