This morning marked my return to long-distance running. I had not run anything further than 10k since my injury two months ago. So I went for the Dingli 10 Miles with no aim, just finish the race, have fun, and hope that my knee won't hurt again.
And yes, I guess sometimes it feels great to just run a race with no target in mind, and just listen to the rhythmical sound of feet pounding the terrain around you, enjoy the beautiful landscapes surrounding Dingli and Rabat, and just appreciating the fact that you can run.
It was in this context, that today I could appreciate much more the silent connection that bounds runners. Just around the third mile, a group of four runners passed by me, and I decided to stick with them. I ran with them for the next 6 miles following their pace, and not pushing any further. And throughout these 5 miles, no one spoke a word. It was just our marching feet, our panting breaths, and the songs of the birds. In the last mile, each one took off individually, each with what he had left. But by the end of the race, we somehow re-met. We did not need much words, just our names, "you're a good pacer", "you have a great kick, I just couldn't keep up at the end", "thanks for making me push further", "thanks for the company". We did not need any more introductions, we had become friends.
A silent run, up the hills and through the wind, had done the trick.
And yes, I guess sometimes it feels great to just run a race with no target in mind, and just listen to the rhythmical sound of feet pounding the terrain around you, enjoy the beautiful landscapes surrounding Dingli and Rabat, and just appreciating the fact that you can run.
It was in this context, that today I could appreciate much more the silent connection that bounds runners. Just around the third mile, a group of four runners passed by me, and I decided to stick with them. I ran with them for the next 6 miles following their pace, and not pushing any further. And throughout these 5 miles, no one spoke a word. It was just our marching feet, our panting breaths, and the songs of the birds. In the last mile, each one took off individually, each with what he had left. But by the end of the race, we somehow re-met. We did not need much words, just our names, "you're a good pacer", "you have a great kick, I just couldn't keep up at the end", "thanks for making me push further", "thanks for the company". We did not need any more introductions, we had become friends.
A silent run, up the hills and through the wind, had done the trick.
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