…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.