I am so ridiculously sentimental sometimes. Put me in a pair of running shoes, point me in the direction of the blazing spring sun after a long, grey winter, play ”Into the wild” by Eddie Vedder for me and my lower lip might start quivering. On my way up to meet AIK for our Saturday long run, I leaned to the left to compensate for the strong gusts of wind over one of the river bridges. Right then, a tear might have rolled down my cheek. A tear of joy. Feeling invincible.
Few things fill me with such uncontrollable joy as having two healthy legs on a beautiful day. Partly because they're healthy and I get to enjoy them yet another day, partly because of the prospect of all the amazing trail runs that are ahead of me when the snow melts.
The moment didn't last. After approximately 12-13 kilometres, my left knee started acting up again, seemingly out of nowhere. I just about had time to wonder how I would ever build up my long run distances again if the knee starts complaining after only 12 kilometres. And how it was that my 15-km session at the beginning of the week didn't make my knee complain at all. And how it probably was because that day my speed varied between slow jog and bat out of hell. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over. I ran the rest of my planned half-marathon on legs that were tired but otherwise happy.
Maybe spring isn't here just yet.