Almost every single moment leading up to a run is filled with resistance. And every moment during and after is filled with gratitude – that I did it anyway, that I can do it, that I am alive and can feel the pain and the exhilaration and the wind and the ground beneath me.
I like to run even though I’m not very good at it. Where my huge quads are awesome for lifting and biking, they slow me way down for running. I haven’t tried to improve any of my times for well over a year, and I like it that way. Running for me isn’t about getting faster – it’s a kind of meditation. I get my best ideas on runs and whenever I’m feeling drained creatively, all I need to do is put on my headphones and shoes and get out the door.
This (yesterday now) morning was a good example. I felt crummy and puffy with excess carbs and was also stuck in my rewrite. Halfway through my run I felt light-footed and great and had figured out where to go next in the plot. By the time I walked through the door, I felt so much better.