Earlier I told you my relationship with exercise is volatile. I love it. I hate it. I mask the hate by finding excuses not to do it. But when I love it I can’t stop talking about it. As a result I keep falling off and back on this exercise wagon. It really does hurt to get back on. I know because I do this a lot. Today I got back on it. My excuse lately had been the weather. It’s too cold I would say. But today the sun was out, the sky bright and blue; I didn’t have a reason not to. Also the fact I had some unusual acid reflux situation happening. A good run is what I needed.
For me starting again means starting from zero; even though the last time I ran was about 2 months ago, it may as well have been a year. That first kilometre outside was painful. I stopped to spit out said acidity a few times. And I hadn’t broken a sweat yet. Keeled over spitting all I could think was that I was going to get arrested for desecrating on government property. My running route happens to be surrounded by public offices. I digress. Running hurt, my pace was horrendously slow. A middle-aged power walker out ran me. My mind kept taunting me to give up. Somehow I held on. As I approached 3 kilometres I hit my stride. My hunched back arched straighter. My legs picked up speed. The adrenaline came rushing in and I remembered why I loved to run. This is the part that exhilarated me. I felt strong and I felt fast. I know in reality I was running a tortoise pace faster than previous state of slow motion, but I didn’t care; it was how I felt that mattered.
I ran 5 kilometres today. Many areas of my body are sore. I am exhausted to the core as I write this. But it feels so good.