Day 8

2/3 of the way through, or not: the 4-7 min workouts require much less recovery than I'd thought, and so they might become my new daily minimum (with clamshells).

The dog and I ran 4 miles, and then I ran 2 more (literally running an errand).
And then I body rocked.

Most of our morning runs have been later than usual, and so I haven't been seeing the people and dogs I'm used to seeing, but am starting to recognize new faces. However, late last night, on Christmas Day, I walked the dog and saw someone whom I hadn't seen for a while but who seems to be the type of runner I wish to become. There was no one else out except for a couple of snow plow drivers and a few other people walking their dogs. It was quiet, white fluffy midnight snow quiet.

I have seen this runner quite a few times; we have never spoken but I once saw him entering the building next door, which makes us neighbours. Actually, I thought at first he was one of the men from the Mission or wherever who go through recycle boxes for bottles with deposits: his look was 80's unkempt, I guess: fluffy untamed hair and moustache and worn and dirt-stained though regularly laundered clothes, faded neon or primary colours that were once bold. A few times, I saw him on a bike, an 18-speed drop handlebar relic. He's middle-aged but wiry, and probably has looked or could look the same for decades.

And then I saw him out running. I wish I could remember what shoes he wore: I'm curious to know if he wears busted up shoes or if he channels his spare cash toward new trainers. The rest of his outfit seemed to be generic 80s workout clothes, cotton tshirt, and shorts, windbreaker, etc. He might have even worn a headband (in my mind, he did, at least).

Here was a guy who had not stopped running in his own world for years.

I don't know for sure, but that's what I've chosen to believe. I see him only infrequently, I'm not sure if he has a routine, if he acknowledges anyone at all, if he's training for anything or how much he runs, or if he simply heads out the door whenever and runs for however long. His gait looks like it has been smoothed by much repetition and tweaked by a few chronic injuries. He doesn't seem to look at anyone; he is not a social runner. He doesn't seem to wear a watch. He just runs.

Now, I enjoy the social aspect of running, but I admire this man's minimalistic and pragmatic focus. It's probably best that I don't know much about him. I can pretend that he's some sort of running monk. If he can simply roll out of the door every day, as essentially as breathing, why can't I?