I ran 1,300 miles in 2014 and I don't feel like running today. Running's been a habit, a sport, a challenge, a refuge, a millstone for almost 30 years of my life. Running four or five days a week, racing every event from 5Ks to marathons, but I didn't feel like running today.
But a slave to habit, I put on the sweats and sneakers and hat and gloves and slipped out the side door and on the road. And put one foot in front of the other in rapid succession and hoped that my spirits would be lifted, as they usually are, with the freeing sense of movement.
But the uplifting spirits didn't get out of bed and I only got through my six miles through discipline and habit. I didn't feel like running today, just like I didn't feel like running all this week or the week before that. The body is tired, the mind is weary and running, usually an antidote, just dragged me further down and I couldn't get the enticing concept of a nap out of my mind.
Running blogs and magazines insist that all runners go through periods of running despondency, when the urge to run just dissipates. Some people even quit running altogether, but I'm a lousy quitter. I force myself to do things. Force myself to go to work, clean the bathrooms, write stuff, recycle the cans and newspapers, practice difficult guitar pieces--all things that are work.
Now I'm even forcing myself to run. The rational mind is forcing me because it points out quite accurately that running is good for the heart, the skeleton, lean body mass, mind acuity and so on an so on.
But we are an emotional species and my emotions are not into it. I'm just dragging my resistant body through the motions. Promises of treats in the end don't do it, nor does running with pals snap me out of it.
Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and feel like running. Sure didn't today.
But a slave to habit, I put on the sweats and sneakers and hat and gloves and slipped out the side door and on the road. And put one foot in front of the other in rapid succession and hoped that my spirits would be lifted, as they usually are, with the freeing sense of movement.
But the uplifting spirits didn't get out of bed and I only got through my six miles through discipline and habit. I didn't feel like running today, just like I didn't feel like running all this week or the week before that. The body is tired, the mind is weary and running, usually an antidote, just dragged me further down and I couldn't get the enticing concept of a nap out of my mind.
Running blogs and magazines insist that all runners go through periods of running despondency, when the urge to run just dissipates. Some people even quit running altogether, but I'm a lousy quitter. I force myself to do things. Force myself to go to work, clean the bathrooms, write stuff, recycle the cans and newspapers, practice difficult guitar pieces--all things that are work.
Now I'm even forcing myself to run. The rational mind is forcing me because it points out quite accurately that running is good for the heart, the skeleton, lean body mass, mind acuity and so on an so on.
But we are an emotional species and my emotions are not into it. I'm just dragging my resistant body through the motions. Promises of treats in the end don't do it, nor does running with pals snap me out of it.
Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and feel like running. Sure didn't today.
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