The wind builds character...

As I set out to run this past weekend, it was so windy I was certain I would need to ask my husband to drop me off somewhere up-wind.  I hate the wind.  Every time I curse the wind before a run or ride, my mom sagely reminds me, “dad has always said that the wind builds character.” 

As I hear my mom’s voice in my head, I decide to listen. (No surprise, right mom?)  I have a lot of energy and need to burn through some stress.  I’ll just let the wind build some character today; into the wind I go.  I feel so confident lacing up my shoes that I set off telling my husband, “no, I’m not going out and back, I’m going ALL the way into the wind.”  “I call you when I’m ready to be picked up.” 

Famous last words for sure…  The wind wanes my confidence as soon as I step off the front porch.  As I leave town, I quickly realize that I’m going to need to distract myself from focusing on the wind; more so than what my iPod, my favorite music, and five sticks of chocolate mint gum alone can provide.  A couple miles out of town my first piece of gum is tasteless and I can barely hear my music over the South wind.  Repeating “the wind builds character” in my head over and over doesn’t help either.  As I see a newborn black sheep amongst a sea of snowy white ones, I suddenly think; black sheep – be different – run someplace new.  

I momentarily forget the wicked wind and focus my thoughts on a new route I’ve been wanting to take. It’s really only two more miles away and that even though it will add miles, I’m thinking about taking it.  No, I have to take it.  I need something to keep me going.  As I turn the corner to head a new direction, the prospect of new scenery almost instantly motivates me and I pick up the pace.  Before I know it, I’m on a new route just four miles from home that I’ve never ran before! 

Although I relish familiarity and scenery I love, newness is always a highlight for me when I run.  This run now feels like an adventure.  An adventure complete with content looking angus, a few unexpected hills and a dog I don’t expect to chase me either…  After I “outrun” the old farm collie and soak-up the joys of a new route, I realize I’ve already gone 10 miles and… I forgot to call for my ride!  

Twenty minutes later I’m in the backseat of my husband’s car with my son, who is wiping away my kisses, I think, well I hope, only because I’ve covered him with sweat too!  I sit (and sweat) and wonder how I made it this far(that’s just the runners high talking)… 12 miles when I planned on 10.  It wasn’t the gum, my iPod or even the “joy” of character building in the wind; it was the sense of adventure I felt – dog chase and all. (Don’t worry mom, I’m confident this was a character building experience too.)

Running on the Prairie

Where I run, I gauge my distance by counting mile sections of wheat fields and I plan my routes from one small town to the next.  I run where the scenery is dotted with fields, farms, church steeples and river bridges.  I run on flat country roads lined with wildflowers in the spring (although my dad would call them weeds) and ditches filled with snow drifts in the winter.  Runs can be so serene that my iPod only interrupts the meadowlarks, the singing of the cicadas and the lulling swish of wind through the wheat…  Then reality hits.  There are those runs when I can barely hear my iPod over the gale force North wind or those when my toes and fingers are numb before I reach the end of my block.  I won’t even mention the hundred degree summer runs that quite literally melt me as the heat radiates down from the sun and up from the road.  Peaceful and serene or wickedly windy, I love being a “rural runner.”  Despite, or perhaps because of the changes of the seasons (and the whims of the weather), I truly love where I run.

I’m always debating where to run… an old favorite route, out past the little white church or someplace new.  With seemingly endless miles of country roads, running for me is always an adventure on the prairie.