I ran 6 miles yesterday, and I am definitely feeling it. I am getting back to running! Although it is hard to come to terms with my current limits, (did I really used to be able to run 18 miles at a stretch?) just being out and being well enough to pound pavement is such a gift.
Running and I go way back. I was never fast, and I was far from being “athletic” as a kid. I guess I always admired runners, and was fascinated by the sport. Once I finally got to know long slow distance, I kinda fell in love.
Like with weightlifting or the theater, I think once you pass a certain point you’re an addict. I love it, but it comes with a bundle of nerves every time. That feeling lasts at least until I manage to get going, although I sometimes even get butterflies about running while I’m running. It’s a strange feeling; like I am not sure if I can do it, even though I have done it plenty of times before. But the nerves are bundled up with joyful excitement too. There’s this primitive part of my brain that is always ecstatic about running. That’s enough for me to keep returning to it.
Even if the road was tough, you can’t help but feel better after a run. I struggled a bit yesterday to find my pace. Still, around mile 3 I finally figured it out, and I felt pretty great from there. It is nice to be happily recovering on Monday morning.
I feel like I’m ready, more or less, to start another week. I am hoping to be all-round “better” this week; more productive, more active, and more in line with my own ideals. I am trying to do more of what matters to me, and still working on that work-life balance thing. Running seems like a good start for that.