Day #4’s run was inspired by my postman and my desire to prove to him that I’m not a hypocrite. Three running magazines from my renewed subscription to Runner’s World have been delivered in the last week and I’m just not ok with my mailman thinking I’m a big, fat liar. No, I don’t know his name and I’ve barely spoken to him in the 11 years we’ve lived here but I needed something to get me on that dreaded treadmill. I think this proves when you’re digging for a reason to run, anything (obviously) will do.
Today, I was tired. Flat out foggy headed, sleepy tired and sluggish. The last thing I felt like was getting my run on. But, as I said before, once that decision is made (for real) you don’t have to make it again. I begrudgingly wrestled into sports bra, shoved my feet into running shoes and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. Big sigh… then I started.
While my fatigue made it hard to run at first, it did something else I hadn’t expected. It created a colossal wall between me and my thoughts. My legs were moving, my arms were pumping but my brain was quiet. For once, in such a long, long, long time… there was nothing. Er, not nothing I guess. I still thought things like ‘that’s a horrible song’ and ‘why don’t i delete bad songs off my playlist?’. But really, that was about it.
And it struck me how nice that was. For a brain that seldom stops puttering, to have a moment of peace. To just be in the moment and feel what I felt. My brain wasn’t obsessing about the run like it was last time, it had just given in. It had resigned itself to shut up and let me go. It was almost enjoyable. And by enjoyable, I don’t mean something you are dying to do. I mean that it didn’t suck in a massively horrible way. Which is practically a win.