[Running Novel] From Here On, It's My Time Chapter 14: The First Track

From here on, it's my time

Previous Story Chapter 13: Discomfort in the Right Knee

Chapter 14: The First Track

By the latter half of September, the density of the air in Tokyo had begun to show a change that was obvious to everyone's eyes.
Even while running through Komazawa Park in the morning, the stifling heat that seemed to rise from the midsummer tarmac had neatly hidden in the shadows, and the wind blowing through the shade of the large trees lining the course had begun to faintly carry the cool scent of autumn.

And above all, what eased Miyuki's tense heart was none other than her own right knee.
That cursed pain on the outside, which had troubled her every night and filled up her smartphone's Chappy and search bars, had not shown its face at all during her practice over the last two weeks.
Of course, she did not commit the folly of forgetting the heat once she had passed the throat. Before running, she performed careful dynamic stretches, and no matter how tired she was when she returned home from work, she continued myofascial release with a foam roller after bathing and deep warm baths as an absolute discipline on the same level as brushing her teeth. The entire process of self-care, which she once felt was extremely troublesome, was now perfectly integrated into the OS of her daily life.

Miyuki proved with her own body the fact that it was this steady, unglamorous accumulation that prevented friction in her right knee's ligaments. Even on the weekend when she completed a 15km long run, her right knee continued to drive smoothly while remaining silent, and the next morning in bed, that unpleasant discomfort never returned. For her, that was a joy filled with more happiness than anything else in the world.

Because she knew the depth of what an injury was, she could understand with her skin the preciousness of the daily life where she could kick the ground with a sound body.
There were 3 weeks left until the Tokyo Legacy Half Marathon.
If it were just a minimum completion plan of "reaching the goal without walking," she could probably achieve it with a high probability given her current running ability and condition. Recently, Miyuki had grown to the point where she could make such calm calculations.

However, the moment one goal comes into view with a sense of reality, a more greedy and intense "next desire" tends to raise its head from deep within a person's chest.
She was going to stand on a grand stage that started from the beautiful pitch of the National Stadium, after all. She didn't want to just trudge along and slide in within the time limit; she wanted to run through the finish gate at a pleasant speed. Such a pure, hot desire had begun to fill the vessel of her spirit. Even though she had never run a marathon before.

The trigger for that was, as expected, a post from a female runner she admired on social media.
One day, ahead of the start of the autumn season, Miyuki's eyes were drawn to the inorganic string of characters in a training log she had uploaded.

"400m x 10"

Interval training. The word itself existed in a corner of her mind as knowledge while she read through various running guidebooks. However, she had assumed it was a sanctuary menu that only track and field clubs or elite runners were allowed to step into.

The caption of that post contained words that were short but struck Miyuki's chest violently.
"The simplest and most grueling menu to raise the maximum output of the heart and lungs and train the absolute basic physical strength for speed. It is accompanied by such pain that your lungs feel like they are being torn apart halfway through and you want to vomit everything in your stomach, but only those who have survived this hell will possess the true strength to stick it out in the second half of a marathon."

When she opened the comment section, it was overflowing with raw screams and voices of joy from serious runners across the country. "I gave it my all at Oda Field again today," "My heart broke on the 8th one, but the sense of fulfillment after finishing is the best." Every word lined up there had intense heat.
Deep in Miyuki's chest, a small but certain spark scattered.
She wanted to try it. She wanted to see the scenery beyond those numbers, faster. That pure desire could no longer be stopped by anyone. Of course, it might be a reckless challenge for her current self. However, if a new self who could overwhelmingly leave behind yesterday's self was waiting beyond that grueling menu, she wanted to knock on that gate with her own feet, even if just once.

As she continued her research, she found that a full-scale 400m track called "Oda Field (Yoyogi Park Athletics Stadium)," located right next to Yoyogi Park in Shibuya, was widely open to the public for free on specific days. It was said that runners of all levels gathered there, from top amateurs to office workers on their way home from work and students working hard on night practice.
To be honest, just imagining passing through that gate made Miyuki's heart feel like it was going to be crushed by hesitation. Could she, with zero track experience and only a few months of running, step into a sacred place where such naked fighting spirit swirled? Would she be laughed at for being out of place and yelled at for getting in the way of high-speed runners? Such negative delusions raised their heads.

However, the current Miyuki was not the person who used to just go with the flow.
"If you're curious, why don't you go because it's scary? I'm the one holding the steering wheel of my life."
When she switched her thinking like that, she packed her favorite shoes and running wear into the bottom of her large work bag without hesitation.

The last Wednesday of September. The company's "No Overtime Day."
At the same time the clock hands announced the scheduled time, Miyuki brilliantly escaped the Otemachi office. She tidied up her desk with a speed that surprised her surrounding colleagues and slid onto the Chiyoda Line platform. Her face reflected in the train window inside the Chiyoda Line looked like a trader about to head to a grueling deal, or perhaps a child excited about their first adventure.
She got off at Yoyogi-Koen Station and walked briskly up the park slope where the curtain of night had begun to fall. She arrived just before 7:00 PM.

The huge mercury lamps surrounding the stadium were emitting a white, almost divine light. The moment she passed through the entrance gate of Oda Field, Miyuki stood still, breathless at the sight.
(Are there this many runners?)
What was spreading out there was a 100% pure "athletics stadium" that she had never witnessed in her life until now.
A group of university students dressed in matching uniforms were sprinting around the track, making the ground tremble with their footsteps. Working adult runners wearing tight running tights were driving their limbs to shave off every second, glaring at their running watches with grim expressions. Whether it was a veteran runner with graying hair or women who looked to be of Miyuki's generation, everyone was stoically facing their own limits.

The unique friction sound of shoes and spikes scratching the all-weather track, the rough breathing, and the taut, thick air that dominated the athletics stadium. It was fundamentally different in nature from the glamorous night jog at the Imperial Palace or the peaceful family run at Komazawa Park.

Miyuki was nervous. Timidly and hesitantly, she started her warm-up carefully by herself in a corner of the area outside the track. She devoted herself to stretching as thoroughly as always. She knew that the surrounding gazes were not directed at her. Everyone was allocating their brain resources only to clearing the numbers of their own practice plans. As she immersed herself in that air, her nervousness sublimated into a comfortable combat mode.

And finally, she headed to the starting line for her lonely interval run.
Today's menu was to sprint one lap of the 400m track at a speed close to her limit, and then connect it with a very slow jog for 200m while catching her breath. She would do this for a total of 8 sets. It was a self-made program that she had calculated would be barely doable according to her current running ability, referring to various literature.
She set the timer on her running watch and took a step into the inner lane. While many runners were running, she aimed for a gap and kicked the ground at the same time she pressed the button.

Fast. The gear of her senses was slammed into top gear all at once. The large muscles on the back of her thighs, which she had never used in her long runs at Komazawa Park, were driving explosively, and her lungs were instantly demanding a large amount of oxygen. Even though she was supposed to be speeding, the backs of the runners in front were moving further and further away, and she was being passed one after another from behind. When she finished the first one, Miyuki felt dizzy at the severity of the setting, thinking, "Are there 7 more of these?"

On the second one, her respiratory system already began to overheat, and the back of her throat became parched. The 200m rest jog passed by as quickly as a blink of an eye.

On the third one, her legs began to feel heavy, as if she had stepped into a muddy swamp. It changed into a gritty run that squeezed out all the output of her body, far from the smooth stride of her jogging.

On the fourth one, no matter how much she inhaled, there wasn't enough oxygen, and her lung cells burned as if a hot iron plate had been pressed against them. It was really dangerous, so she stopped before the rest jog and took a little water from her plastic bottle into her mouth. She rested for an extra 60 seconds.

On the fifth one, "I want to quit already." Someone clearly whispered that in her head.
A group of student runners left Miyuki behind like the wind, maintaining incredible speed and beautiful form in the right lane. Serious working adult runners were also calmly carving out laps like machines that had lost their sense of pain. In this wide stadium, she was on the verge of being attacked by an overwhelming sense of defeat, as if she alone were distorting her face uglily and gasping for air for dear life.

But it was exactly at that moment.
From the depths of her hazy consciousness, the memory of that first Imperial Palace run flashed vividly into Miyuki's mind.
That day when she pitifully stopped her feet in the middle of the long uphill slope at Hanzomon and despaired while staring at the light of a vending machine. The self of those days who felt even a distance of just 5km was as far as the end of the universe.
When she superimposed that unreliable portrait of the past with her current self, who was making her limbs dance at a speed of over ten kilometers per hour on the track of this illuminated athletics sanctuary, a fierce emotion welled up from deep within Miyuki's chest.
"I am not the me of those days. I have walked this far with my own feet. If so, let's finish about 3 more."

The sixth one. By now, the sensation in her thigh muscles was paralyzed, and intense lactic acid pain attacked her with every step. Her breathing was pointing to the red zone of her limit, and she didn't even have the leeway to wipe the sweat from her eyes. Even so, the rotation of her legs did not stop. She swung her arms violently, pressed the ground with the core of her trunk, and ran while staring intently ahead.

And finally, the last 8th one arrived.
The moment she finished the 200m rest and moved to the final sprint, the corners of Miyuki's lips were, strangely enough, curled upward. She was indeed smiling in the midst of extreme pain.
Her lungs felt like they were being torn apart, and her heart was beating explosively as if it were about to break through her ribs. Every cell in her entire body was screaming to stop exercising right now.
Even so, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, an incredible sense of euphoria and a pure sense of being alive were running through her body like magma.
It's painful. It's really painful enough to die. But, it's as fun as it could possibly be.

There was no need to worry about other people's eyes, nor was there any need to be afraid of the company's unreasonable evaluation sheets. Just the naked truth of moving her body solely by her own will against the grueling hurdles she set for herself, and clearing them millimeter by millimeter. That was the magic of the sport of running that she couldn't usually experience.

Miyuki ran through the final 100m straight, squeezing out all her remaining energy. The beauty of her form didn't matter anymore. Just forward. Cross that white line even one second faster.
The moment she passed the finish line, she hit the button on her watch and dropped to her knees on the grass inside the track as if collapsing.

While on all fours, she shook her shoulders violently and greedily inhaled oxygen. She knew that the pulse on her wrist was hitting the maximum heart rate of her life so far. The sweat that erupted from her whole body wetted the green grass drop by drop.
And then, she lay down on the grass, looked up at the sky on her back.
(This is seriously crazy. But I finished it.)
What welled up from the depths of that intense fatigue was an overwhelming lingering sense of victory that made her chest feel like it was going to burst.
8 sets. Without skipping a single one, without breaking her heart halfway through, she finished it perfectly. She ran through the hell she decided on her own, not by someone else's orders, to the very end with her own feet. That stern fact had driven a wedge of new, diamond-hard confidence deep into her chest.

On her way home, Miyuki looked back proudly at the beautiful 400m oval track illuminated by the stadium's mercury lamps.
On the track, runners still working hard on their night practice were casting shadows like the wind, and serious adults were running in lines. Naturally, no one in this sacred place was paying attention to the run of a nameless beginner named Miyuki.
But that was fine. It wasn't to be praised by someone, nor was it to be applauded.
She set the target herself, pushed her body herself, and accomplished it herself. That absolute self-completeness was the medal of honor that was more valuable than anything else to her now.

While walking along the quiet tree-lined road at night leading to Harajuku Station, Miyuki suddenly looked up at the night sky. The clear autumn stars were shining faintly between the buildings.

Only a little while until the starting gun of the Tokyo Legacy Half Marathon.
Somewhere in her heart, the fear of the unknown distance and the anxiety about the recurrence of her right knee still lurked. However, what was overwhelmingly filling the vessel of her spirit now was a trembling "anticipation for joy" that was enough to cleanly drive away those negative emotions.

She wanted to stand on that stage soon. She couldn't help but want to confirm how much of a run her body would show in the middle of that Tokyo.
And the fact that her body had learned the "pleasure" that only exists beyond that extreme pain was the greatest proof that Miyuki, a single office worker, had completely and decisively stepped into the deep, bottomless world of running. Her gaze no longer had the sharpness of just a beginner, but was beginning to take on the sharpness of a real runner.

Next Story Chapter 15Chapter: The Excitement Won't Stop