This is a supposed to be a rest week. But it doesn’t feel like it—like, maybe my body was overworked to a point where it’ll take more than shorter workout times and an extra day off. Or, maybe, I need to stop exceeding the time allowed for biking and stay within the schedule.

This morning I woke up at 7:30 to run 35 minutes before heading off to Urasenke. At that hour it’s just the homeless stirring from sleep piled beside the empty streets. Each one of them said something to me that I couldn’t hear through the headphones. It was a shorter run but not any faster or easier because of the rest day I had yesterday. The pain in my shins doesn’t subside until about 20 minutes into a run, so, really, the longer runs are better. During the short ones, I can tell I’m running stiff, like those people I see sometimes who look like they’re not used to running. Well, that’s me.

Day before yesterday I swam and ran at dusk. Ran first. Out from the gym on the downtown streets toward the market and the waterfront. I was running faster that day; Thursdays are the fast days, a reliable crest of endurance. Wonder how that is. Well, I was running and almost ran into a guy on a bicycle as we approached the same corner at perpendicular courses. My light was green so I kept going. He caught up to me halfway through the next block and asked if I wanted to race.

A week before, on Thursday, I ran my best run yet. Andrew helped me get my swimming gear to the gym then dropped me off in the U-District so I could run from there along Eastlake to downtown. Even with the long uphill by Fred Hutch, I felt strong, alacritous, like I could continue indefinitely. Running, people keep saying, is mostly a mental game. I think what made the difference on this run was the idea of reaching a destination. That, and being able to check out the shops and restaurants all the way along the route to the gym. (Runner-friends of mine prefer to run along the shore or in the arboretum because they like to be in and to look at nature. Whereas, I loathe it for the boredom I have to suffer on top of everything else. I like running downtown, by storefronts, among people, and through traffic. I wonder when I’ll stop pretending to like hiking in the woods.) Besides, in the twilight the city glowed metallic with the last orange hues of the day staining the tallest parts. The streets and sidewalks were empty of commuters; I had the city to myself, which is just how I like it.

In between the runs and swims, we’ve been biking. The other night it was twice around Mercer Island and tomorrow it will be somewhere around Leavenworth after our reunion at the Sultan Bakery.

I hate writing only about the exercise. This could quickly become a record of workouts, but I’d rather it didn’t. It’s just that the exertion pervades all experiences—like sex, but with recalcitrant pain.