Charles River Loop

This is the route that I ran on Wednesday. A friend of mine recently referred to this week as, “slightly apocalyptic.” Although that probably describes her week more accurately than my own (she’s moving,) the Charles River loop I ran on Wednesday was definitely apocalyptic as well, if only slightly. After three solid weeks of two and a half mile runs every Sunday, Tuesday and Wednesday, I decided to up it this week to two 2.4’s and one 6.0 miler. Needless to say, the six miles of the Charles River loop kicked my ass.

The first half of the run was on the Cambridge side of the Charles River, and the wind was wild. It was blowing straight against me, bringing cold air off the river. The sky was overcast. Tons of runners were passing me with ease, and I passed no runners. I was unsure how to pace myself, because it was my first time running this route solo. By the time I crept towards Massachusetts Avenue, my legs were wobbly and I was light-headed. This was in the third mile, and all kinds of doubts about whether it had been wise to attempt six miles crowded my mind like a peculiarly informative episode of Pop-Up Video.

As I turned toward the city of Boston, and jumped onto the Mass. Ave. bridge, my perspective changed radically. The wind was now blowing perpendicular to my body, and I could see the river churning hundreds of feet below my feet. A sea change in my head was underway, the river was underfoot, and the wind created the illusion that I was flying over the water! I suddenly felt confident that I could finish what I had started. The Boston side of the Charles River loop was protected from the elements. The air during the second half of the run was motionless, except for my wake.

There are many reasons why I love to run. The repetitive motion, especially after the first mile or so, becomes a source of calm for me. All the little bits of information I try to hold onto so tight throughout the day are loosed and lost. Sometimes all I think about is my breath. Its a kind of magic to reduce reality down to breathing. The six miles left me aching, in a blanket burrito with a book and lots of water, for days; nevertheless, I want more.