Oh, how I've missed you. This is the distance at which I feel I am finally ready to begin something, the distance at which I actually feel confident in saying, yes, I am a runner. A nice easy six miles on a lazy Sunday, an intense six miles worth of intervals at the track or on the treadmill, a busy six miles for work days when I just have to do a little more but don't really have the time for it. And of course the wonderful six miles plus in a 10K --- long enough to feel worth investing time and money in a race, but short enough to not make too big a production out of it (or short enough to bust my gut on, should I feel so inclined).
I took my six today slowly, slowly, staying on main roads near bus routes in case I had misjudged this returning fitness thing. I ran it with a small pack so that I could end at the grocery store and library --- we have a major storm coming up and I don't expect to be able to run errands during the week. And since I had the day off (worked Saturday) I ran it knowing I could spend as much time stretching afterward as I might need to, as much time in a hot shower as I wanted, and as much time lolling around the apartment feeling absolutely glorious from having run my six miles. And I did, I did.
Blessed be the six-mile run, for you are perfect in all your many forms.