Not all who run in circles are lost

A few weeks ago on a mini-vacation with my husband in Arizona, I did some early morning running.

They say running is a great way to get a feel for a new place.  However, with my terrible sense of direction, I don’t do it often.  When I’m out-of-town for business I usually opt for the hotel gym (which means – with most of the places I’ve travelled for work in the last few years - a crappy old treadmill in a closet).      

But this was Arizona, and so for my morning workouts I ventured outside. 

I have run in worse places

I typically run out and back when in an unfamiliar neighbourhood.  They say this is smart.  It means, in theory, I can get myself back to my starting point no problem.  It minimizes the chances of ending up lost in a back alley face-to-face with a street gang.  And having to employ self-defensive Ninja moves.  Or break into a dance sequence from Thriller, which is likely to wow my potential assailants with a different kind of fear.

This particular Sunday in the outskirts of Phoenix, however, I employed an alternate strategy. I decided to run in a loop. 

This was a loop we had driven several times the day before going to and from my husband’s mountain bike race.  It started from the hotel.  It went out along the highway for a bit.  It then turned up a hill into a suburban area heading toward the nearby mountains.  At Saguaro Boulevard, a left turn would bring me back down the hill to the highway.  Its map image was firmly entrenched in my mind.  It felt like about an 8 km circle.  I figured I’d be back in about 45 minutes.   

Let me put it this way.  At 45 minutes into the run, I was not back. 

At 45 minutes, I was ready to be filling my coffee mug and loading the waffle-maker at the Comfort Inn breakfast bar.  However, I was not even at the second turn-off, which – according to the laser precision of my mental geographic planning – would bring me to the down-hill home stretch.  At 45 minutes, I was still chugging up hill.  I was wishing I’d eaten something before leaving the hotel.  I was starting to fantasize about water.          

I had two options.  I could turn around and run back.  A guaranteed 45 more minutes.  Or I could plug on, in hopes that Saguaro Boulevard was just around the next bend. 

I went for plug on.  This was not the greatest decision I’ve ever made. 

I was not technically lost.  I knew the turn was there.  I had just grossly misjudged the distance.  It was simply a much bigger circle than I figured. 

As I ran on, the agony chorus of my hip flexors kicked in.  I found my inner-monologue ranging between two camps.  The first camp was the one of ”What was I thinking?  I can’t do this.”  The second camp…”Relax. You’ve got this.  Just run.” 

On I plugged.

Eventually the turn came.  As did the down-hill stretch.  I found my way back to the Comfort Inn on the highway and the blessed end of the loop.  There were no street gangs.  No attempts at smoke screening to assist an FBI-led search party.  I just kept running – thirsty, hungry and sore - for like an hour longer than I’d expected.     

There’s a lot of basic running lessons in this tale.  Always double-check your route.  Tell someone where you’re going.  Bring water.  Bring a cell phone.  Uh, run out and back when in an unfamiliar place.  

I think there’s some life lessons too.    Like sometimes you end up in tough situations that you weren’t anticipating.  Sometimes you’re on your own and you’ve gotta figure your own way home.  Sometimes it’s your fault you got yourself in a situation in the first place.  Sometimes the circle is plain-old bigger than you thought. 

And sometimes when you think you can’t, it turns out you can.  You just keep moving forward. Because you can’t just stop in the middle of nowhere and give up.  Because people are expecting you.  And because – perhaps most importantly - the breakfast bar closes at 9:00.