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Three In A Row
This morning I ran five perfect miles.
The miles weren’t particularly speedy. It was a recovery run of sorts, and I averaged a 9:20 pace.
The weather was nothing special, either. It wasn’t raining, but it wasn’t sunny, and the sky was dark from start to finish.
There was no wild energy in Central Park. In fact, there weren’t that many runners out at all. It was peaceful and quiet.
I can’t even say I went out in some cool outfit, either. I washed all my workout clothes last night, and I sometimes have a hard time dirtying them up again (I have weird issues, I know that), so I went with ratty shorts and an old shirt and, of course, some leg warmers. Nothing compared to yesterday’s Ninja-style-black-with-some-bright-pink-accessories getup.
So if the weather was forgettable and the miles weren’t my fastest and I got completely soaked by a car speeding through a puddle on Park Avenue, then what made today’s run one of my favorites?
It was the third run in a row where I felt awesome.
Dare I go ahead and say that with the trusty help of my friend Remicade, this Crohn’s flare-up is actually, officially, really on the way out? Did I finally kick this thing?
It was so nice to wake up this morning feeling fine. I slept through the night and never woke up because my stomach was flipping out. My stomach was all chill and relax-y. Excellent job, stomach. I’m proud of you.
I got out of bed and was excited to run. I went to the bathroom twice, like a normal human (that’s normal, right?), and then I was out the door.
And then I ran.
I didn’t pick my route based on the proximity of open bathrooms at 6 am.
I just ran where I wanted to run. I was like, “Legs, where do you want to go today?” Because for the past nearly two months, my stomach has been calling all the shots. Every day it was, “OK, stomach, where do you want to run? You want to be near the tennis court bathrooms? Alright. Let’s head that way. Oh, stomach, today you prefer the Boathouse? You’re so picky, but OK then. Let’s hope those ones are open.”
Today I ran the lower loop of Central Park, and as I passed those Boathouse bathrooms — which were locked — I just smiled. I didn’t need them. I felt fantastic.
And when I finished running the lower loop and headed back north up Cat Hill, I passed the bathrooms again. They were still locked. And I still didn’t need them.
I spent the entire run forcing myself to remember and hang on to this feeling: how good it feels to feel good.
Maybe I’m speaking too soon and I shouldn’t get too excited. Maybe the Remicade is working its way through my system and then I’m just going to get sick again. I guess that’s part of having this lame-ass disease — you never really know.
But for now, I’m going to enjoy every single second I can without obsessing over my stomach. It’s been an exhausting month and a half. My body has been working hard, and I’m really hoping this flare-up is done for a while.
I’m ready to snag a few more PRs while I’m feeling healthy.
I’m ready to go to Las Vegas to celebrate Brian’s birthday, see some great friends and run a killer race down the Strip.
All I have thought about every single day lately is my stomach. How it’s feeling at the moment, how it’s going to feel later, how every single thing I eat will affect it…
I’m ready to not live that way for a while.
So Crohn’s, I’m not going to throw nasty words your way. We’ve played that game and I fear that will just make you angry again. Instead, I will thank you for laying low and giving me three days in a row of beautiful, pain-free running.
I have loved remembering what it feels like to go for a run and not have to stop. I loved lacing up and going out this morning and having my run take exactly as long as I had planned. I loved not having to factor in additional stopping time.
And that’s the story of today’s perfect run.
Also, here is another picture of Simon Cane, the world’s coolest baby:
Happy Due Date Day, Simon! I’m glad you came into the world early so I could hang out with you yesterday. Keep growing. You’re really good at it.
I’VE TALKED ABOUT MYSELF ENOUGH, NOW TELL ME SOMETHING ABOUT YOU: What was the highlight of your weekend? Did you run a marathon? Or an ultramarathon? Or a Race to Deliver? Or did you eat breakfast in bed? Or did you play with Simon Cane? Or did you, too, tell your Crohn’s disease to F-off so you could PR in Las Vegas? Share with me. I’d love to know.