I never thought I’d say this and I know that I don’t probably mean it and it is just the frustration speaking – At this moment in time, Saturday 5pm, as I sit defeated after yet another sucky run making it XX sucky runs in a row, I wonder …. (No, it is not just the Atlanta summer, I had horribly slow runs even when running next to the majestic Niagara Falls)
I wonder why I am doing this to myself. Pretty masochist starting a run at 2pm in the peak of Atlanta summer.
I wonder why I NEED to run. There are plenty of other exercises I can do to stay healthy.
I wonder why I make up my mind to chase something that sometimes feel improbable. Especially something I am so bad at. Like really really really bad with a net negative progress over the years (even if I have had short term forward progress that I somehow or the other end up losing)
All that being said – How could I STILL be so utterly in love with something that is beating my spirit up?
Because inspite of all those frustrations, my heart still smiles to put on my running shoes.
Maybe I long for the joy in little things that I sometimes forget to find in the hustle & bustle of everyday life.
I still seek out the runners high which is unlike any other I’ve known.
Maybe I’m so tied up in everyday life that I forget to have fun and excitement.
I have even grown to love those unexpected moments when a segment of a run triggers something in me that results in a cascade of sobbing and cleansing tears.
Maybe the run gives me a release from all the things overloading my mind.
I still find peace when the tiniest of breezes whips through my hair on a run.
Maybe I just want to feel alive. And dream.
Whatever be the reasons, remembering how helpless I felt last year during my injury, I still feel incredibly lucky everyday that I CAN run. I can only accept where I am right now and try my best to improve on what I do. But that doesn’t stop me from being very very frustrated and question myself over and over on my why.