Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke
I had my first runner’s high!
For years, I heard my wife talk about “runner’s high” with the reverent, slightly glazed-over look of someone describing a religious experience. She ran seriously back in the day, so she knew whereof she spoke. I always wondered: would I ever get there? Was I built for such transcendence? Could my legs carry me to the promised land of endorphin-fueled bliss?
Reader, they could.
My run on May 8th was already shaping up to be a personal milestone. I beat my target pace, set a new personal best, and came agonizingly close to logging my first sub-8-minute-per-kilometer, just a few seconds shy. Not bad for someone who has been quietly waging war on anemia.
Then, somewhere around the middle of my 4th kilometer, it happened. A warm, pleasant tingling crept up the back of my neck. I finished my run, slightly confused and extremely suspicious that I was either experiencing runner’s high or the early signs of a very benign haunting. I reported back to my wife, who has considerably more miles on her legs than I do. Her verdict: runner’s high. And apparently, it means you’re pushing yourself hard. High praise from the household running authority.
Now, I’d be remiss not to mention my anemia treatment, which I received just the day before. Was it the iron working its magic? A placebo boost from feeling like I was doing something about my blood? Honestly, who knows, but ever since starting treatment, my pace has climbed noticeably. The difference is, as they say, night and day. More endurance, more energy, more ability to actually finish a sentence without running out of, you know.
In other fitness news: 19 pullovers knocked out before the run, my plank is creeping back toward the 3-minute mark, and my flexibility is sitting at 170 degrees, close enough to a full split that I can practically smell 180. I anticipate getting there soon.
Until next time, may your pace be swift and your neck always tingle in the best possible way.