*Click*

That's the sound my lap counter makes: you press down with your thumb, and it produces this glorious mechanical affirmation that you made it around the track to anyone who cares enough to listen.

Today was a click-by-click run that almost wasn't. My back hurt--was it because I stood on a concrete floor for 3 1/2 hours yesterday, or because I was coming down with something? My head and shoulders hurt--too much time on the computer, or was I in the initial stages of some horrible plague? I almost didn't go to the gym, and when I saw there were no unoccupied treadmills (oh, how I wanted to phone it in today!), I almost didn't climb the stairs to the indoor track.

But I did and I did and I am here now, so after walking two laps to warm up, I switch into a jog and start my watch. I am not going to be competitive, I swear to myself. I am not going to speed up to pass anyone, no matter how annoying he or she may be. I keep to an easy pace and start to feel the heat from the ducts mingle with the cold air radiating through the windows. I pass the entryway three times.

Click. Click. Click.

I need to do twenty laps today. No need for speed, just get 'er done. Just keep loping along. The old couple walking side by side in Lane 1 and Lane 2 are so cute, conversing animatedly with much flinging of hands as they toddle along, clearly having a wonderful time just being together.

Click. Click. Click.

Geez, it's hot up here. The sun is blazing through the windows along the east straightaway, throwing oblong hurdles of light across the lanes. I feel dipped in gold as I run through. My breathing is not quite inaudible any more, and I kind of want to stop my watch at the end of the next lap and get a drink of water. But I don't.

Click. Click. Click.

Two slender college-age girls start running side by side, one gracefully and one gawkily. The graceful one gets a dozen strides ahead over the course of a lap, her ponytail swinging in rhythm with her footfalls, before she turns, now running backward: "Come on," she calls encouragingly to her friend, the way you might coax a child to swim to you in deep water, "keep going, you can do it!" She claps and smiles, effortlessly running backwards all the while. The gawky girl is panting and every part of her is out of synch with every other part of her as she grinds to a stop. "I've got a cramp," she gasps.

Click. Click. Click. Only eight laps to go, though I'm trying not to keep count. An odd little pain on the inside of my right leg crops up just above the ankle every time I lift it. If it doesn't go away in a lap, I'll stop and walk, I promise myself. It goes away. I keep running.

Click. Click. Click. I pass a few walkers with unrecognizable tinny-boomy snatches of music seeping out of their earbuds. "Eye of the Tiger" starts playing on my internal stereo:
Risin' up
Straight to the top
Had the guts, got the glory
Went the distance, now I'm not gonna stop
Just a man and his will to survive

Hell no, I'm not gonna stop! I crank the mental volume all the way up for the chorus:
It's the eye of the tiger
It's the thrill of the fight
Risin' up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor something something the night
And he's watching us all with the eeeeeeeyyye...of the tiger

Okay, so I don't know all the words perfectly. Sue me. It's still one of the best running pick-me-up songs ever. And I've never even seen Rocky.

Click. Click. Click.

Only two laps to go! Woooot! I am breathing harder now. My heart rate monitor says I'm hanging out at 163-165, which has me pegged at the top end of my "not comfortable, but not exactly uncomfortable yet" zone. No faster, I warn myself. Maybe you can slow down just a hair.

A blonde woman zings by me, and I can tell in a heartbeat that she's on the track team just by the way she moves, sinuous and lithe and ultra-efficient, like an oar slicing perfectly into the water with nary a ripple. Her T-shirt confirms it. I'm like a Trabi sputtering along, not very fast and a little on the noisy side, but getting the job done.

Click...and CLICK is twenty laps! 3.125 miles. I made it!! I stop my watch, grab my bottle, and luxuriate in two laps of walking as I greedily guzzle water. I eventually remember to actually look at my watch and nearly choke at my time. 32:26?! I was absolutely not pushing it today, just putting the laps in and clicking my way to the end, and I ran a 10:23 pace.

Boy, that song really works!