Stress Running

Yesterday around 3 o’clock I hit a stress wall. My eyes felt like they were melting from all the computer screens. Each new story seemed worse than the last, and there was still an hour to go before the markets closed. I had no afternoon appointments scheduled and I had been fighting off a headache since mid morning, and my lunch of leftover orange chicken had done nothing to help. The thought crossed my mind, “…and its only Tuesday…” 

Then, I made an executive decision, the impulsive kind for which I am semi-famous. I shut it down and went for a run.

It was sunny and 58 and the wind had finally died down. I threw on some shorts and a long sleeve pullover, picked out an appropriate cap—the one I bought in Chattanooga in 2008 commemorating the University of Richmond’s victory over Montana to win the National Championship of Division I football…

Like me, this hat used to be in much better shape, in fact, it used to be black. Now, after 14 years of running, yard work, and fishing in Maine, it has faded into a color that has no name and cannot even be found on a color chart. Nevertheless it is one of two go-to hats in my collection—the other being the one I bought to commemorate the 25th anniversary of Cappy’s Bar and Grill in Camden, Maine, which sadly is no longer in business, having been replaced by a local chain Pup. But, I digress…

I still run occasionally. According to my fitness journal, I had logged 45 miles since January 1st, so yesterday’s run was not particularly unusual. But just a few minutes in it took on a life of its own. Stress Running is what happens when you’re not really paying attention to what you’re doing, even to where you are running. You’re just moving along, driven by an unseen hand, thinking about absolutely nothing. After thirty minutes or so you look up and find that you’re at the corner of Lauderdale and Church wondering how you got there. By the time you make it back to the house, you’ve been gone an hour and five minutes and travelled 5.5 miles, if your Apple Watch can be believed. You are out of breath, fatigued and sweating like a politician in church. Once you catch your breath you discover that you ran 3 miles and walked two and a half, but you are forced to take the app’s word for it because you honestly don’t remember many of the details. Where was your brain during the last hour? Nowhere, apparently. When I walked in the house and sat back down at the computer, literally nothing had changed. But, I felt so much better.

This morning I’m paying for it all. Both hips and one knee are stiff and aching. In less than a month I will turn 64 years old. I text a friend to ask if I’m getting too old for these sort of frantic runs. He assures me that I’m not. I step on the scale this morning and discover that I have lost not one ounce of weight. One of the cruelties of aging is the staggering indifference your body has towards exercise. Ten years ago, this sort of run would have made a considerable dent in the bathroom scale. Now, it just laughs back at you.