Wednesday, 6 July 2016

Rainy day woman

I've been in a weird place when it comes to running ever since I did those 100 km last September. My motivation has been shaky at best; at times I've been as enthusiastic to go for a run as a dog is before a trip to the vet. Some runs just felt uninspired, others like crossing items off a ”to do”- list I made in preparation for some unspecified, distant goal.

Easy runs. Check.
Intervals. Check.
Long runs. Check.

Those gems of a beautiful, magical run you get when you're in a flow, on a pair of fresh legs, maybe on a smooth, pine needle covered single track through the woods, were few and far between. I missed them, but not badly enough to put on my running shoes and get out there.

I ransacked myself for answers. Part of the reason for my reluctance to go running was not wanting to leave the house when there's so much to do. I don't like unfinished business, plus it is kind of awesome to work on an old house and watch it transform into something beautiful. Another reason was not wanting to add another must in my life. Running for me is about freedom. It's not an obligation – but, for a while there, it got very close to becoming one.

A realisation hit me. Running - my therapy, my shelter, one of my dearest friends - was drifting away from me because I didn't nurture it. I only saw the demands it placed on me and forgot about the good times we had had. I let other things come between us, foolishly believing that, while running can (and does) affect my life, life cannot affect my running. Whenever I've felt down, running has lifted my spirits. Whenever I've had important decisions to make, running has helped me clear my head. But it's not a magic wand you can just wave and fix everything. Someone flipped a switch somewhere and now the water is gushing in the opposite direction, and my running is getting flooded by life and it's just not cool, man. Not cool.

Back to the drawing board for me. I needed to make time for running. I needed to get back to what made it fun. I asked some friends if they wanted to join me for a 50K run. I dreamed about a warm, sunny day by the coast, stopping for ice-cream, chatting and laughing for hours while getting to see new places. My first day of vacation.

What we got was a slightly modified version of it. We did chat and laugh, we did see new places, we did stop for ice-cream, but we also got drenched by a persistent summer drizzle that turned the sky grey and the forest dark. Close enough.

While this was a much-needed run that took me one step closer to getting my motivation back, I'm not there yet. As long as life is upside down to the extent that it is, running will have to settle for being ”that thing you do to keep in shape” instead of a lifestyle, a lifeline.

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