I'm Just a Run Machine January 30, 2010

It snowed enough last night to cover the ground, and not much more. KC was on the back end of a storm that poured ice and snow on Texas and Oklahoma, closing airports, and making roads dangerous to drive on. We just received picture-postcard snow: Enough to make trees and houses and yards look pretty, but not so much that we had to get the snow plows out again. Good thing, too, because most cities in the area are at, or over, their snow budget limit for the season.

The air was cold, but calm, when I headed out for my 6-miler. I didn't even take my watch. I wasn't interested in my pace, and since I've run this course many times, I know the distance down to the hundredth of a mile. My legs felt lively again, and my breathing was not too difficult, even on the first hill. In fact, I decided I would set my pace by my breathing: Fast enough to cause a little strain, but not so hard that I would gas myself.

I wore my Yak Trax, just in case I ran into some slippery spots, but I probably needn't have worried. The sand was almost entirely hard-packed-as if I were running on a firm beach. It was a very pleasant surface to run on.

The skies were overcast, but the sun was beginning to push open the clouds just above the horizon. If I had been going a longer distance, or if there had been clouds of gnats hearty enough to have survived sub-freezing temps, I might have needed my sunglasses, but not today.

The Mike Potts Machine made its way through the streets quietly and without stopping. I sometimes think of myself this way, not in the macho sense, as in "I am a freaking mo-chine," but just as this thing that has been set in motion to perform a very basic task. It runs every day, and in all kinds of weather. Juice it up and watch it go.

It's not at all degrading to compare myself to a generic, inanimate object. It's part of my identity: The Running Dude, The Runner Man, The I've Seen You Going Down 85th Street Guy. Those are all me. I run this town.

Thanks for reading.