Hello Running, My Old Friend

I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with running. As in, sometimes I love it, sometimes I hate it, and sometimes I love to hate it.

From my early teens through college, I usually jogged at least a few days a week for most of the year  to keep in shape.  But, as often happens, I gradually got out of the habit of running, and soon found myself taking only the occasional jog.

I began to think my running days were over.  Perhaps it was for the best, I thought.  After all, running is really terrible on the joints, and bad backs do run in my family.  And I’ve always had that sensitive achilles tendon–I can never seem to really run the distance when it flares up.

But then, it happened.

I started to think about running again.  What would it be like to put back on my running shoes, to head out the door and leave the troubles of the day behind me in a trail of dust and sweat? What would it be like to be in shape again? To “run and not grow weary”?

Like an ex-boyfriend, I started to miss it.  Started to remember the way things were, when I was a runner.

I started talking to runners.  I snuck a peek at a training schedule for a half marathon. Would I–could I ever do something like that?

It was last week that it got the best of me.  I headed out for a walk in the blistering heat.  I’d walk through the grove near our house, I told myself. It would be nice and shady in there. No need to over exert myself in this heat. And then, it happened.  Glancing at my unsuspecting walking partner, my husband, I innocently asked, “What if we ran every other block?  You know, just until we get tired.”  And we did.  And it felt good.

Then today, it happened again. It was after dinner, not the time I usually like to run.  It was still hot and the air was thick outside.  But still, I couldn’t resist.  I laced up my runners and headed out into the twilight.  Yes, I walked a few blocks when I needed it.  But for one glorious half hour, I was running again.  I ran to the edge of our neighborhood, which backs up to a giant field. I was greeted by the most beautiful sight: on the horizon, a beautiful pink sky was melting into a blood red glow.  I stopped for a moment to admire the beauty all around me. This is what we were meant to do, I thought.

I still haven’t decided if I’ll officially return to running. It’s not one of those activities I like to dabble in half-heartedly. It’s all or nothing. But it’s OK. I’m not rushing a decision at this point. The way things have been going, I have a feeling we’ll figure it out, running and me, whether we are meant to be together or not.