There are those things in my life that I love at the beginning.
The first adrenaline of cleaning out a closet.
The heady resolutions to eat healthier.
The new hobby, replete with all the accouterments and trappings.
The blistering romance of a fresh decorating project.
New beginnings, fresh starts, early days.
But, unfortunately, that anticipative rush ultimately ends. And I’m left with a half-emptied disheveled closet, a pantry full of odd organics, a hobby neglected and a decorating palate straddling Early Marriage Rattan and Last House’s Monster Sectional.
So here’s why I respect running.
It’s the exact opposite.
It starts miserable. And then builds to deep love.
Right now, I’m still back at miserable.
After breaking my foot a couple of months ago schlepping a suitcase full of research material and ultimately dropping it onto the arch of my foot, I had to take a break from running. My running schedule was already much abbreviated from last fall’s half-marathon training.
That fractured metatarsal brought it to a standstill.
I started running again a couple of weeks ago. And it’s miserable.
Really miserable. It’s shocking to realize how quickly all that training can make an exit.
My amazing sister~neighbor/running partner JT and I have been working a new training schedule, loading up kids in jogging strollers and running timed splits and hills and distance. And I have been whining.
After a particular unlovely run last week, I turned to JT and asked, “Do we even LIKE running?”
But I already knew the answer.
I love it. I love it because of its innate purity. To be a runner means I have to run. Consistently. I can’t have a fling with it. I have to make a commitment. And running won’t let me get away with a passing fascination to be replaced by the next shiny thing. It has to be a long romance.
Or nothing at all.
I’m ready to get to back to the place where I love running, where I feel strong and empowered, relaxed and endorphin-charged.
As opposed to sticky, gasping, nauseous.
But for now, I can love hating it, love hating what it requires, love hating how it makes me realize that I had to fight for my training and my goals.
And I’m admiring again the life lesson of enduring the formidable to find the reward.
Even when it makes me a little queasy.
And whiny.
Mon, 13 Jun 2011 11:15:00 +0000julielylescarr
