my eyelids open at six. i dress, lace up my running shoes, stretch, fill my camelbak, grab the ipod and head out the door.

i drive along quiet winding streets – even in summer the morning air is chilled with a fresh seabreeze. i am munching on a powerbar and trying to find some music on the radio to relax to. arriving at the canal, i am several hours ahead of most of the saturday morning joggers, which suits me just fine. i’m not particularly graceful at this, and don’t much like the company of an audience. and in my plodding way, i set off, wondering what kind of run this will be – are my legs rested enough? will it be a long hard slog? did i bring enough water and fuel to keep me going? will i make it?

i plug in and tune out. the first 4 miles pass quickly, almost easily. i note the markers notched in quarter mile increments on the path, and watch them roll out under my feet. the fishermen posted on the shores nod at me, their rods and tackle boxes and chairs decked out for the duration. i note the bathrooms and water fountains at 5 miles. i’m sipping diligently at my water, monitoring my stopwatch time. i hit the end of the path at 6.5 miles, and turn around, doubling back for 2 miles, eating another stickyheavy powerbar on the fly, then reversing again for another 2. the path is shaded and cool, helping my hydration. the canal is calm and constant, flowing smoothly alongside me, lulling me. i pass earnest walkers and rollerbladers going both ways, then again as i do my mini-lap. bicyclists cruise past me with ease, looking relaxed and breezy, and i’m beginning to wish i was on two wheels too. i’m starting to think about being tired, and i’m in need of distraction, so i change up the ipod.

at the far end of the path, i reverse for the final time – i’ve completed 10.5 miles and it’s another 6.5 back to the car, but it’s nice to know i’m on my way to the end. the legs are starting to feel heavy so i gulp a carb gel – nasty but necessary, they taste like bad cake frosting and require lots of water to get down. i’m back under the bourne bridge, passing the fishermen yet again. four more miles. i take stock of my body – hip flexor muscle is twinging and tight, knees feel okay but the feet are hot and achy from the pounding. three miles left. the shade is burning off with the morning sun, and i’m starting to sweat more. two miles. jesus, this is a long two miles. i’m running on empty now, and all the glycogen stores in the muscles are long gone. one mile – just keep putting one foot in front of the other, almost there, almost there, it’ll feel so good to stop, the markers are approaching and receding in slow motion, and the car park isn’t getting any closer. plod, plod, plod. thump, thump, thump. my hip truly aches now, with each step, and it’ll feel so good to finally… be… done.

and stop. 17 miles, just shy of 3 hours.

i’m disgustingly sweaty, physically exhausted and mentally drained.

but god, it feels good.

bring it on.

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