The hubby is sailing on a ship right now somewhere between Phuket and Singapore. I, on the other hand, went on solo flight this morning. I ran alone for the first time in weeks. 10k under the 8 to 9 a.m. heat. It was sublime.
For the past months, I’ve been running with a group. It has its advantages. Long runs seem shorter with never ending chatting and bits of chismis. Bangus with sinangag after a run also tastes better when shared over laughter and cheer. But, like my Dad told me over and over, too much of anything can be bad.
In this sense, it wasn’t bad at all. I just needed a change of pace. (No pun intended.) Just like any training program, where you have to combine tempos, intervals, and long runs to achieve your best running performance, I realized that a healthy mix of solo runs, couple runs, and large group runs every week works best for me.
I didn’t realize how much I sorely missed my solo runs until today. When I run solo, there’s a heightened sense of awareness over everything around you: your shoes hitting the ground, the people you pass along the way, the birds chirping, and the steepness of the ascent you’re currently climbing (uh oh). I viewed the roads in a different way (I never noticed that new house across the street). I listened to everything and anything around me. And, best of all, I used the time to think away. There’s no better way to get my ME time than through a fast 10k run.