Going nowhere fast

There is nothing quite so frustrating as moving your legs frantically for an hour and never actually going anywhere. This has only recently occurred to me as I've spent the past week cooped up in the gym on the god-forsaken arc trainer. The truth is, before I was much of a runner, back in college, I was a total gym rat- I logged countless hours on the treadmill and the elliptical machine in Holy Cross's little, stiflingly hot gym. I just wanted to burn a few calories, I was certainly not looking to get anywhere. Little did I know just what I was missing out on...

There is a certain joy that I get from feeling my legs propel me over the ground; a certain sense of accomplishment that I get from watching the pavement escape behind me from underneath my Asics; a certain pride I get from my feet touching as many different areas of the city as possible.  As much as the arc trainer may be able to simulate for your muscles what it feels like to run, it can never simulate for your body and mind the feeling of covering ground.  I'm still following Jack's prescribed time off of running, but I would be lying if I said I was enjoying it.  Only a few more days and I'm back on the roads...