The Plodder

dsc_0134.jpgHere we are again.

Like writing, I have a love/hate relationship with running.

I walk away, or more like limp away every few years, swearing that I will never-ever run again. DONE!

And then, after a while, I start missing it. Usually the missing starts out as a sort of longing as I see others running by at the gym or along the side of the road. There is a fondness to the memories. Like childbirth, suddenly I forget about the pain and the time commitment and the sheer agony, and just remember the high of finishing a race, or more, the meditational space that is created when I hit my rhythm on a particularly long run.

I forget about waking up sore. I forget about the knee pain (always) or the chiropractor telling me that I really shouldn’t be running because of my skeletal structure (hit by a semi while running as a teen had some impact on that).

I forget. And I think, maybe I should ease my way back into it slowly.

You know. A mile here. A mile there.

But then, I find myself once again eyeing races. Eyeing running watches. Coming up with strength training routines. Figuring out how to get the most from my less than perfect body (and who really has the perfect body for running? Okay okay, there are a few, but they are the .001 percent of the runners in the world).

Falling again ( <— to be sung as a 80s rock ballad)

And yes. Here we are. Again.

I am trying to take it slow. I haven’t signed up for any marathons, or even any half marathons. I might tackle a 5k in the next few months, but as I haven’t run in close to three years, I am forcing myself to go slow, to take it easy, to not blow out my knee in the first few weeks.

So hard not to go hardcore.

Though I want to. Always.

But nope. I will take it slow, and we’ll see if it helps with the feeling of blah-ness that has dogged my step lately. I know the blah-ness has to do with the looming birthday, though I refuse to admit that the looming birthday is bothering me (and I will ignore that perhaps I just did admit to that because denial is a friend).

And if I can rack up some time, perhaps the runs will help sweep out some of the cobwebs having to do with my work. The editing process on this latest is proving to be a … crock of shit challenge.

Take it run by run. Bit by bit.

What about you do readers? Do you have things that you quit out of frustration or because you are burnt on it, only to find that you return to it years later? My other one is writing (ironically enough as I write this).

What is yours?



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