This post may seem a bit disjointed, but bear with me. I promise there’s a point.
I had some nasty stomach bug last week that left me in the fetal position for most of Tuesday and Wednesday. By Thursday, I just wanted to go run.
My grandpa passed away this weekend. When Sunday came, I was really happy I had a long run scheduled in my training.
Running has always been intertwined in my life somehow basically since college. It’s my go-to workout, but has turned into so much more than just exercise.
Running is my sanity check.
Over the last two years, I’ve certainly picked up my mileage by training for half-marathons and I’ve noticed that on some runs I couldn’t tell you what songs were on my playlist. I was too lost in thought. Don’t get me wrong, there still are runs when I’m hitting NEXT trying to find the right song to get me motivated.
Turn Down For What works every time.
While I was bowing down to the porcelain god last week, my writing took a backseat. So when the hubster asked “Are you sure you’re okay to run” by Thursday, I was itching. I needed to get out!
When I got the news about my grandpa, I digested it as much as you can in situations when it’s not totally unexpected. After our long run the next day, while cooling down, I started crying. I had opened up to the hubster while we were walking about how I was feeling about things and the tears just came, not uncontrollably, not in a rush down my face. They just brimmed to the top, watering my eyes as if to say, “Thank GOD you went for that run so we could get out.”
(We also clocked our best mile-pace to date.)
I hate the bad runs, I often question why I’m even running during those times.
I exude confidence during the good runs and find myself asking when the next one is so I can kill it again.
Regardless of the type of run, my mind seems to require the solitude and solace that running gives me. I’m very thankful I have it.