June, roughly thirty-six miles per week.
I also bought some new Mizuno running shoes. At City Sports in Cambridge I tried on all kinds of
models, but ended up buying the same Mizunos I’ve been practicing in. They’re light, and the
cushioning of the sole is a little hard. As always, they take a while to get used to. I like the fact that
this brand of shoes doesn’t have any extra bells and whistles. This is just my personal preference,
nothing more. Each person has his own likes. Once when I had a chance to talk with a sales rep from
Mizuno, he admitted, “Our shoes are kind of plain and don’t stand out. We stand by our quality, but
they aren’t that attractive.” I know what he’s trying to say. They have no gimmicks, no sense of style,
no catchy slogan. So to the average consumer, they have little appeal. (The Subaru of the shoe world,
in other words.) Yet the soles of these shoes have a solid, reliable feel as you run. In my experience
they’re excellent partners to accompany you through twenty-six miles. The quality of shoes has gone
way up in recent years, so shoes of a certain price, no matter what the maker, won’t be all that much
different. Still, runners sense small details that set one shoe off from another, and are always looking
for this psychological edge.
I’m going to break these new shoes in, now that I have only a month left before the race.Fatigue has built up after all this training, and I can’t seem to run very fast. As I’m leisurely jogging
along the Charles River, girls who look to be new Harvard freshmen keep on passing me. Most of
these girls are small, slim, have on maroon Harvard-logo outfits, blond hair in a ponytail, and brand-
new iPods, and they run like the wind. You can definitely feel a sort of aggressive challenge
emanating from them. They seem to be used to passing people, and probably not used to being passed.
They all look so bright, so healthy, attractive, and serious, brimming with self-confidence. With their
long strides and strong, sharp kicks, it’s easy to see that they’re typical mid-distance runners, unsuited
for long-distance running. They’re more mentally cut out for brief runs at high speed.
Compared to them I’m pretty used to losing. There are plenty of things in this world that are way
beyond me, plenty of opponents I can never beat. Not to brag, but these girls probably don’t know as
much as I do about pain. And, quite naturally, there might not be a need for them to know it. These
random thoughts come to me as I watch their proud ponytails swinging back and forth, their
aggressive strides. Keeping to my own leisurely pace, I continue my run down along the Charles.
Have I ever had such luminous days in my own life? Perhaps a few. But even if I had a long
ponytail back then, I doubt if it would have swung so proudly as these girls’ ponytails do. And my legs
wouldn’t have kicked the ground as cleanly and as powerfully as theirs. Maybe that’s only to be
expected. These girls are, after all, brand-new students at the one and only Harvard University.
Still, it’s pretty wonderful to watch these pretty girls run. As I do, I’m struck by an obvious thought:
One generation takes over from the next. This is how things are handed over in this world, so I don’t
feel so bad if they pass me. These girls have their own pace, their own sense of time. And I have my
own pace, my own sense of time. The two are completely different, but that’s the way it should be.
As I run in the morning along the river I often see the same people at the same time. One is a short