…elusive when it comes to doing anything for myself, that is.  I’ve been on an accidental running hiatus since late this summer.  I let some situational depression get the better of me, and despite its immediate and constant benefits, I let my running go.  Completely.

I have to be honest here, since I realized I could actually do it, there is nothing that makes me happier than running outside.  I LOVE to run.  I feel like a superhero when I’m done, and after the first mile, I almost always enjoy the activity itself.  I listen to stories on PodCastle or one of my favorite running mixes (handcrafted by me, with such highlights as eminem and tool and radiohead) and I enjoy breathing relatively fresh air.  Let us not forget that running is the only time of the week I ever get to spend alone. 

My goals haven’t changed. I want to be healthy and strong and feel beautiful and powerful. I get all of that from running. So, why is it so difficult for me to re-start? 

There were a few days last week where I felt the cool breeze and thought, “Now this is some great running weather,” but did I go out and run?  No, I did not.

I have a desperately vivid photographic memory.  Why can I remember something I read 15 years ago, or something my mother said to me when I was a tiny child, yet not recall the amazing and powerful feeling I get from running?  If you have any input, I’d love to read it.

I’m happy to finally say that I’m back on track.  I keep my running activities updated on RunKeeper, if you’d like to join me (and maybe remind me of how much I love running if I’m gone for a few days?)

I ran tonight. 

Second time this week. 

Twice as far as last time.