Two miles- if I tell myself only two more miles I can keep running. Those two miles are the increments that I find myself depending on to push through. Generally I rely on this trick heavily, along with my new favorite- reading trashy magazines. One trashy mag for every two miles- I have it down to a science.
Yesterday the gimmicks were unnecessary because all I could think about doing was my run. I needed to shake off everything. This week was one of the heaviest emotional weeks of my life. Finding running has provided me with an outlet that I never had before. Running, like writing, has become a channel for everything in my life and alI could think of was, what do people do when they’re upset that don’t run?! Riddle me that.
And so I got on the treadmill and I ran. My ankle cracked, my neck was sore. I truly believe that emotions impact our physical well being and let me tell you, I felt like a wreck. I lowered the speed, I slowed down, and I continued. And I ran and I ran until there was nothing in my mind or my body. I just looked ahead, straight into the blackened television screen that I did not bother to turn on. At times all I could think about was David, and my mom, and my brother, and life. I was overcome with grief, but this sadness somehow kept my thoughts so blank, yet so consumed.
The minutes turned into miles and the miles allowed the emotional pain to turn into physical pain, and ultimately it all evaporated. And I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but running allowed me to feel angry, and sorrowful, and manifest that negativity in a better space. I could feel these emotions boiling inside of me and I was afraid that they were going to be taken out on those closest to me. I needed to run, and I needed comfort. Yesterday I ran eight miles straight.
In some strange way I kept running for David. I kept envisioning this life that needs to be fulfilled- Never be afraid to go out on the limb, and climb as high as you possibly can. Keep going. Don’t stop. Life is too short. Challenge yourself.