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After several weeks of building I have finally reached my peak mileage. Thankfully any aches or pains I have felt in the process have proven to be only minor. Even so, I decided the best way to celebrate my highest mileage week ever was to complete it at my childhood home. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect as my high school track coach was celebrating his marriage that very weekend.

Out of habit I rose at 6:00 AM Saturday, laced up my shoes and headed straight out the door. The streets were quiet at that hour as I cruised along the familiar roadways. For months I imagined ending a long, challenging run by jumping straight into the lake, only taking the time to remove my shoes before immersing myself in water. At the end of my run I decided to wait for my long run the next day before following through with my long-awaited plunge.

For the first time I would have company for the entirety of a two-hour long run, as my dad agreed to join me. He proved to be an excellent companion, pushing the pace (as he usually does), but not beyond my capacity (as he sometimes does). We ran out an hour from his house along the flume that fills the man-made lake in the summer months. Although the weather wasn’t as warm as it had been earlier in the week, all I could imagine was how refreshing the end of this run would feel.

It ended up being my longest run and farthest total mileage week in my 18 years as a runner. Exhausted, I knew the only way I could possibly commemorate the occasion. I made a beeline for the dock, shed my shoes and jumped, feeling relief wash over me. So much has changed since the first time I made that jump; I’ve experiences a lot of successes and failures alike. For now all I know is that I am putting in the work to become the best version of myself, and making sure I don’t forget where it all began.

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