Yesterday I thought about running all day, harping on the fact that I could have taken 30 minutes out of my day to get through it. It was a long day. Work, doctors appointment, food shopping for the items I forgot when I went food shopping. By the time I got home I plopped on the couch and zoned out to the point that I somewhat remember girls on TV complaining in bridal dresses.
John walked in the door not too long after and said, “Do you want to run before dinner, or after dinner.” Neither? There she was, the old me, pushing through with excuses ready to go. The new me fought the good fight though and I decided to keep the excuses to myself, or at least for another day. One reason I decided to just do it is because I had someone that worked all day, and was also tired, but he was willing to run knowing how important this is to me. He wasn’t running just for himself and I appreciate that friendship that we have.
What happened next was a surprise and I’m not sure if it was the pent up energy, but I was full on running. Not my typical and gentle jog and my this isn’t a race mindset. When I run with a person I like to run with them. Last night I took off and got into this bizarre mental state where it was me, my breathing, and my music (which was terrible by the way, Pandora and I were not on the same wavelength.)
This is probably not as uncommon as I believe it is, but breathing is one of the things about running that makes me insecure (others include: am I running pigeon toed? and Why am I the slowest person here?) If it wasn’t for headphones I would be mortified listening to myself for 20 minutes. You would have thought I was on the 23rd mile of a marathon if you heard me huffing away. Regardless, I felt light, like I was floating and I was in an amazing rhythm which I didn’t know was possible. I could feel my breath coursing through my body. I could feel my lungs begging for the fresh oxygen I was taking with every breath.
When I reached my 2 miles I was able to pause and stare out at the ocean as I caught my breath. The ocean is one of the most humbling places in the world and it intrigues and terrifies me all at the same time. Water encompasses most of the earth, yet we understand so little about the deepest depths of our oceans. We are so inclined to understand planets other than our own (I’m pretty sure there is an analogy to humans in there somewhere.) As I listened to the sounds of the waves as they gently washed in, my heart rate calmed down, and John was standing next to me. I told him I felt like a cheetah, he told me a leopard, at best. It’s a start.