For reasons too prosaic to detail here, I had to do my recovery run yesterday at 8 p.m. For someone who is accustomed to running early in the morning (like, 5:30 a.m.), I found it a little disorienting.
But in a good way.
It was kind of pleasant, running in the dark but being fully awake and with veggie lasagna in my tummy. By the time I reached Road 97 in rural Yolo County, it was almost pitch black and I was completely zoned out, running at an even, slowish pace just to get my legs loose. I wasn't wearing a watch, so I didn't even have to concentrate on time or splits.
In this blissful state, I saw a runner coming at me from the other direction. I'm a kind sort that always gives a greeting to a fellow runner. This time was no exception.
"Good morning," I said.
Do'h. Then I caught myself.
"Evening, I mean."
But he may have already passed out of earshot by the time I could correct myself. I'm sure he probably picked up his pace to get away from that lunatic who didn't even know what time of day it was.
Sad to say, this wasn't the first time I've made such a mistake.
Running, at least in my case, can make a guy kind of stupid. Don't, for instance, ask me for directions when I'm in the final stages of a 20-mile run. My brain is mush by that point. I tend to shut off all rationality and concentrate on the task at hand. Some psychologists have called it a "flow state." To me, it's being simpleminded, not singleminded.
Yeah, yeah. I know what you're thinking.
What's this guy's excuse for his stupidity when not running?
Got no answer for you there.
Speaking of psychology, here are some pre-marathon tips by the Boston Marathon's "team psychologist" to get you through race day.