It is time to shift, and I am wishing I had a treadmill. I know that sounds funny, but all I really want to do right now is run. Run until "it" feels better. Unfortunately, it is currently a balmy 25 degrees here, plus the windchill, which makes it closer to 20....if I am lucky. And after a recent stint with pneumonia, I would be crazy to go run outside.
I have a love/hate relationship with running. A lot of the time, running is one of those things that I have to gear myself up to do.
Force myself, because although I was always known as being fast, I was not an endurance runner. Sprints were my thing. I could rock out a suicide with the best of them.
These days, there is something very cathartic about running to me, yet I seem to forget this until I get out there and do it. I will be honest, sometimes I still hate it. Usually, it is that first run of the season that I despise the most. I've been cooped up doing exercises inside because of the "awesome" midwest winters. That first run of the season is a lung burner. Makes me feel like I am running through mud and breathing through a straw, with jell-o legs and collapsing lungs. But then, then there are the times that it just feels perfect.
Running perfection, at least for me, goes a little something like this. I love, love, love to run in the evening. There is something about the light and the air that makes me feel like I am gliding. It feels almost effortless. Like I could keep running with no protest from my legs and my lungs. Run like the wind and with the wind. I have my ear buds in, listening to whatever suits me at the time, sometimes it is a book, sometimes it is music. My thoughts tend to meander just like the trail, usually with the trivial problems or going-ons of the day. But somehow, on the 15-, 20-, or 30-minute run, it has allowed and enabled me to figure everything out, or at least feel like I have for the time.