In 2008, I was getting a little burnt out. Working 50 hrs a week at a pretty stressful job, trying to settle into married life, but generally enjoy it overall. But I wasn't happy. I didn't feel good, I didn't have an outlet for the stress and I didn't have a lot of friends outside of work. (And by "not a lot", I mean one.)
So I started running. Partly because I went to buy jeans and it woke me up to the size of my own ass. I didn't have a lot of energy or stamina. So I started running. And I loved it. I ran regularly for 5 years. Did a couple of half marathons, a bunch of 10k races, even flew to Quebec City for the Defi des Escaliers. It was AWESOME. I made friends, found an outlet for stress, a support network, regained some of my energy and felt good. (And added bonus - my ass shrunk!)
Then I lost motivation. I can't tell you why or how, but it just faded. I would think about going for a run and then... sit. It was like I wanted to but just couldn't get off my butt. There were lots of excuses: too hot out, too cold out, it's raining, my bras are all in the wash, the cat's comfortable and I don't want to disturb him. A tea and a cookie won out over miles and sweat. I wish I knew why, but I never figured it out.
Running friends would say they missed me, ask if I was coming out, how I was doing, but nothing could really get me going again. I even missed the sign up for my favourite race so I'll be sitting that one out this year. (Maybe I'll go cheer on some friends.) I tried setting goals or a schedule but I would just ignore them. The cookies went to the hips (as Grammy warned me: a minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips!) and I've gained about 30-40 lbs. My clothes don't fit and I don't feel good. There are knots in my shoulders and I know there is more stress coming in the next 6-8 months. So I need the outlets: my piano, writing, reading... and running. I want it all back: the energy, the release, the challenge, and of course, the ass-shrinkage.
So, a couple of weeks ago, while my husband was out, I decided to get out there. Just start back at the beginning at 1:1s. I didn't say anything to anyone. Not even my husband. My lungs had forgotten, but my legs remembered a bit. It was a little tough, but not horrid and I felt good afterward. No posts on Facebook, no driving out to Run Club, nothing public. Just quietly going for a run. The way it really should be: becoming 'one with the road'.
Today was my second run at 2:1s and I'm still into it. My lungs are remembering quickly and my legs only ask they I give them some TLC by stretching for at least 10 minutes afterward. (I am happy to oblige - it's like meditation or yoga.) I love running. I read about it, I think about it, and now I blog about it. I want to keep it going but I feel a little like a smoker - just have to take it a day at a time. The only difference is that, instead of avoiding a cigarette, I'm avoiding the couch, the cat, and the cookies.
(Well, maybe just cookies.)
