LIFE!

Good thing I never got a room-roommate that summer. I don't think most college students like being woken up at six on a saturday morning in the middle of summer by their crazy roommate looking for her tennis shoes.

But I was up, and I was out with just a bite off the heel of my bread and a little sip of water. I didn't know what to eat or drink before such a long run. I had never run 16 miles without stopping, so really, I didn't know much at all about what I was supposed to do.

Ninth East was deserted, and I had the sidewalk to myself. As I headed north up the street, I watched the sun begin to peek over the top of Timp. My muscles were still waking up, too, stretching themselves as I jartled them from slumber and on up the road. It was pleasant outside. This was my time of day.

The flap of my feet echoed on the pavement as I rounded the corner by the MTC playing fields and I recalled the time I had run this same road with Dano the week before. He ran as smooth as a two ten elephant, and we had talked the whole way. Now I could be the only one alive, and my footfalls were gentle and patterned.

An hour later when I reached the mouth of the canyon, the world had rubbed its eyes a little more and people were milling around the parking lot in helmets and clips, getting ready to ride the trail I was running. Little sweat pearls formed at my brow as the sun waved to the cyclists. Little mile markers on the side of the trail told me I was at mile 8 1/2, but where the start was or how many miles there really were, I had no idea. My body knew though--its very capillaries could tell how much distance I covered and how long it took me. Call it conditioning. I think it might be a gift.

Coming back down the canyon felt like a dream. My legs were strong and steady in their pace, and I passed 13 miles with ease. Without even thinking! I soared down the trail with my heart pumping liters of fresh blood through my very much alive body. My breathing was quiet and calm and my arms pumped to a rhythm no one else could hear. I kept my eyes on the trail ahead and occasionally licked sweat droplets that trailed down the line of my cheekbone and to the corner of my lips. They tasted salty. They tasted like salty accomplishment.

On the way back, University Avenue was bustling with activity as I approached the main intersection by the fields. Cars zoomed by, missing the flow of existence coursing through my body. I was two miles away from the farthest distance I had ever run and two miles past the previous record. Who was I!? Was this crazy!? How did I feel so good!? More than I ever felt before, I felt I was born for running.

My apartments came into view and I strided towards the front lawn with confidence and a certain lingering feeling of relief. Up the six stairs to 108, I collapsed on the couch on our front porch. A ray of sun shot through the balcony overhang and onto my face as I wiped the dried sweat off my hair line and pointed my toes to stretch my calves.

"So this is what 16 miles feels like?" I said the words out loud to myself, letting them bounce off the neighbor's door. "Not bad, Kris. You're a beast."

Too bad I didn't have a roommate that summer. There would have been something satisfying about running 16 miles before she was even awake.