Fast at Last

My run had started out in the twilight but now, 40 minutes later, it was dark, pitch black in fact, as I worked my down the hopefully smooth crushed granite trail that I could feel but not really see in front of me. A faster runner ahead with a handheld flashlight was creating a surrealistic effect, as the light bobbed and darted, illuminating dimly bits of the trail here and there, like a paintbrush trailing light but leaving no trace of where it had been nor any clue of where it was going. 

I was a mile from the car, cruising down an embankment near the park, and in the dark I was hyper-conscious of my body as I ran, like I was in an isolation tank but in motion too. I was going fast, and with it being so dark, I didn't want to take the time to glance down at the Garmin to see how fast I was going, but it was fast for me (maybe a 7:30 pace?) and it felt good. 

What hit me then was that I already had four miles under my belt at a good pace  and it still felt good to go this fast. 

At that moment, I realized that I was recovered from my marathon.

My  post called "Slow" recounted my frustration with how long it's taken me to get back into good running shape following my 26.2 mile run last Februrary in the Austin AT&T Marathon. I had no earthly idea that recovering from a marathon would turn out to be a six-month process for me, but it has. 

And the other night, moving through the darnkess, feeling my legs stretch out in front of me as covered unseeable terrain, hearing my own breathing in my ears, I knew something, something good.

And in running as in life, that's not an everyday thing. 

And with that realization, I smiled, a smile that no one else could see, as I moved through the dark and felt my way along the trail.