For a change, the evening run was moved to East Coast Park. The route was a literally straightforward 7 km run.
All day, I looked forward to it, the thought of running by the sea with my pals on a flat path, no elevations and hard climbs, and a good dinner after. It was going to be a breeze.
Reality, as it turned out, proved a little different. The minute I started picking up my pace, amid the bikers, the families with strollers, the clusters of people barbecuing away, I knew I wasn’t in the best of form.
The easy-peasy run turned out to be a test of endurance. I couldn’t gauge the distance because the route was unfamiliar, and the return leg was one of the toughest in recent memory. I couldn’t understand why.
It was a flat path, the remains of the sunset were caught in the hems of some clouds, an orange moon hung low over the sea. My thoughts recalled with surprising longing the familiar terrain of the Botanical Gardens route we ran on Wednesday nights, and then it hit me: Familiarity breeds endurance.