I love running.
It’s like a switch has been flipped in my brain. I look forward to going running.
What? Why? Who are you?
I mean, I’ve been a “runner” off and on for a long time. I ran cross country and track in high school, have gotten into (and out of) it periodically since then, but running has always felt like something I SHOULD do. I SHOULD run to be healthy. I SHOULD run to stay thin. I SHOULD run to stay sane. But I have never really WANTED to run. It has always just been a matter of making myself do it. And inevitably, that’s why I stop doing it -nobody likes to be forced into things, even if you’re the one forcing yourself. Right?
So what the heck happened?
Upon moving to Seattle, G and I decided we wanted to do the Seattle half-marathon, which happens around Thanksgiving. I have no idea why we decided this. I think it probably had something to do with, “turning over a new leaf, new city, new habits, get healthy, we spent a month this summer sitting in the car and eating at restaurants, etc etc.” So, anyway, we decided to train for a half marathon. I was put in charge of setting up the training schedule. I didn’t do a very good job of it, instead favoring, “eh, let’s see if we can run 2 miles.” And, at the beginning, I was still in that SHOULD do it phase.
But we kept running, kept making ourselves do it. An end goal is helpful, I guess. Then poor G hurt his back, so he’s been unable to run.
And I started running like crazy.
I mean, don’t get any funny ideas. Not THAT crazy. I’m not very fast, that’s for sure. But I did run 7 miles the other day. It was great. I literally experienced that phony sounding “runner’s high” people claim to get. It involved me sitting on the floor giggling while I stretched after the run. And then tipping over. In a fun way. Ok, an exhausted but fun way.
And the next day, to prove that the running love was not an isolated incident, I was so excited for work to be done because I got to go running again! And it was a good run! Except for the third mile, which was entirely uphill. But whatever, that’s only bad while you’re doing it, the minute things flatten out all’s right with the world again.
I think it all comes down to using up excess energy, feeling like I’m accomplishing something, getting out of my head, working my body. It’s a good feeling. It’s like meditation or something. It’s good to feel worn out, but exhilarated.
Sometimes I have to write down directions and then fold them up tiny and stuff them in my shorts pocket. Hey! It’s a new city!
Good stuff. I’m planning an 8 miler for Saturday.