What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

dangerous pastime can be enjoyable, I frankly can’t fathom.) As if pulled in by a magnet, people
gather on the banks of the river.

Seeing a lot of water like that every day is probably an important thing for human beings. For
human beings might be a bit of a generalization—but I do know it’s important for one person: me. If I
go for a time without seeing water, I feel like something’s slowly draining out of me. It’s probably
like the feeling a music lover has when, for whatever reason, he’s separated from music for a long
time. The fact that I was raised near the sea might have something to do with it.

The surface of the water changes from day to day: the color, the shape of the waves, the speed of the

current. Each season brings distinct changes to the plants and animals that surround the river. Clouds of

all sizes show up and move on, and the surface of the river, lit by the sun, reflects these white shapes

as they come and go, sometimes faithfully, sometimes distortedly. Whenever the seasons change, the

direction of the wind fluctuates like someone threw a switch. And runners can detect each notch in the

seasonal shift in the feel of the wind against our skin, its smell and direction. In the midst of this flow,

I’m aware of myself as one tiny piece in the gigantic mosaic of nature. I’m just a replaceable natural

phenomenon, like the water in the river that flows under the bridge toward the sea.

In March the hard snow finally melts, and after the uncomfortable slush following the thaw has
dried—around the time people start to remove their heavy coats and head out to the Charles River,
where the cherry blossoms along the riverside will soon appear—I begin to feel like the stage is set,
finally, because the Boston Marathon is just around the corner.

Right now, though, it’s just the beginning of October. It’s starting to feel a bit too cold to run in a tank
top, but still too early to wear a long-sleeved shirt. It’s just over a month until the New York City
Marathon. About time I cut back on the mileage and get rid of the exhaustion I’ve built up. Time to
start tapering off. No matter how far I run from now on, it won’t help me in the race. In fact, it might
actually hurt my chances.

Looking back at my running log, I think I’ve been able to prepare for the race at a decent pace:

June 156 miles

July 186 miles

August 217 miles

September 186 miles

The log forms a nice pyramid. The weekly distance averages out in June to thirty-six miles, then forty-
three miles, then fifty, then back to forty-three. I expect that October will be about the same as