Running blind

It made sense when I planned it out:  finish my work for the day, use the wheelbarrow to haul mulch for the flower beds, go to the eye doctor to figure out why vision in my right eye is blurry, and then fit in a quick 3 mile run before going out to dinner.

It didn't make as much sense after Dr. Porter decided to dilate my eyes, leaving my pupils almost as large as my irises. When I picked up the prescription for cortisone eye drops to hopefully decrease the eyelid inflammation that seems to be causing the blurry vision, the pharmacy tech had to fill out the paperwork for me because I couldn't see clearly enough to read.

At least I remembered my running sunglasses, and thought that an easy mile on the Rec Park path, followed by quarter mile intervals and a short cool-down, wouldn't tax my limited vision resources. When I had trouble fitting the trunk key in the lock to get out my heart rate monitor, I knew my plans were going to change. I couldn't open the trunk, which meant I couldn't gauge my pace using my heart rate monitor. I thought I'd run old-school and time myself using my Timex Ironman sports watch. Until I realized I couldn't see the numbers on the watch.

On to plan C, or possibly at this point plan F. I decided to simply run by how I felt. I took the first mile slow and easy, and after a quick hamstring stretch (who knew that hauling mulch could tighten up my hamstrings?), I sped off for the first quarter-mile interval. Luckily there are large wooden fence posts marking quarter miles on the Rec Park path, and I've run this path hundreds of times so there's no danger of inadvertently making a wrong turn due to blurry vision.

I alternated fast and slow quarter-miles, stopping to stretch before the next fast interval. I based my pace on my breathing instead of my watch and on pumping my arms more quickly instead of checking the number of steps I took in 30 seconds.

When I first started running 20 years ago, I ran to take in views of the Green Mountains, to hear my feet crunch up the hills on the dirt roads around my house, to listen for birds instead of the telephone or the kids needing me right that minute. Somehow I got away from the joy of running simply to run, and became dependent on pace, heart rate, set workouts, and weekly mileage goals. My run today started as a typical scripted workout, part of the larger plan of training for the Flying Pig marathon in two weeks and the 50 mile Old Route Relay this weekend. I ended up squinting when I ran through sunny sections of the path and enjoying the comfort of the shady parts. I could still see the mountains and hear the birds. I ran, and realized that was the whole point.