I love running so much right now I think I might just explode.
After a challenging training run this morning, I found myself listening to a little Cat Stevens, and every single song that came on made me somehow apply the sentiments to running.
I’m so #$%$! addicted, and you get to hear all about it:
Can’t Keep It In
Every new training day is like a completely new beginning.
Every single one.
The night before training, I lie in bed and think about the ways that I am going to push through the tough stuff, make my feet go faster, push those hips out further …and let ‘er rip.
I imagine it, picture it. Run through it over and over in my mind.
“Remember to smile, “ I say to myself, “It makes it easier.”
I remind myself how lucky I am that I have this ability. Not rock star ability, but just simply the ability to run. Flinging my body through the air, catching it, and doing it again.
I am healthy, happy, excited and living life to the fullest. Setting new goals and chasing them with a passion that consumes me.
It never gets old.
There’s always the next challenge, the next step, the next level.
I refuse to settle.
I’m really enjoying …running fast.
Where Do the Children Play
Sometimes I wonder what’s wrong with me.
…and then, I ride the train, or walk into work, or view the people on the sidewalks, and I wonder what’s wrong with them.
No one plays anymore. Everything is so serious.
Drivers honking, middle fingers flying. Silence on the elevators. Silence on the train. Impatience in grocery store lines. Chest-thumping arguments on Facebooks.
It’s all so exhausting. …and kinda sorta sad.
But my training is my play time.
Aggressive play that fatigues me enough to rival any pharmaceutical calming alternative.
It frees me from all the angst and worry and frustrations and social banter that means absolutely, positively 100% nothing.
It reminds me of the joy of my family – which is 100% everything. It reminds me that I am free. I can move my body and feel good whenever I want to and nothing else matters but the sound of my breath, the beating in my chest, and the form of my body. Constantly scanning, evaluating, adjusting, so the pace never falls.
And if it does, so what, there’s always tomorrow.
Sitting (but only for second ‘cuz on my way)
I am working extra super duper crazy hard.
I have huge goals.
Training for this 2:55 marathon has been an humbling, dramatic series of incredibly challenging training runs.
And with only 39 days of training left, I’m still way behind.
I need to be at a sub-38:00 10K, but I’m only at 39.
I need to be at a 1:25 half-marathon, but I raced a 1:30 five days ago.
And while the math shows my marathon at more like 3:10 at best, I’m not going to give up.
If I can train myself to run 20 miles at 6:53 without falling apart, I can force a progressive run for an additional 6.2, I know I can.
And even if it ends up that I can’t, then I will try again.
This is the most fun, I’ve ever had in my life.