Remember When I Was a Runner?
Man, those were the days. When I could lace up my sneaks and jog for more than a mile w/out feeling like I was going to die. When I could smile at pedestrians and even have the energy to wave at other runners (and take the brush-off in stride b/c who cares, I’m a runner). When I could look cute in my running tanks. Okay, maybe I never looked cute, but I was at least comfortable in them, instead of feeling like a stuffed sausage w/ the food baby I’m currently carrying.
I was feeling pretty cocky last week when I decided to venture out for my
first second run of 2014. I figured since it hasn’t been that long since my last stint w/ running I would be able to get back on the horse no prob. Riding a bike and muscle memory and all that. Turns out I would probably fall off a bike if tried to get on one today and muscle memory is a load of shit. During my run last week I alternated between feeling like I was about to die and feeling like I was about to die. I’ve never smoked a cigarette in my life but my lungs felt in worse shape than those folks on the Truth campaign commercials.
I chalked it up to the absence of running in my workout routine and thought that as long as I persevered I’d find my stride again. Said stride was nowhere to be found on today’s run. It may have been a little hasty for me to assume I’d be breezing along out there but I just wanted so badly to have that feeling.
That feeling when your second wind kicks in and you can go another two miles, easy. That feeling when your favorite song comes on your iPod and your pace gets a little faster. That feeling when you see the hill and don’t just ascend it, you own it.
That feeling never quite got to me today. But I’ve got a lot more miles in me to find it. Because every runner is just chasing that feeling, and if you don’t find it today, there’s always tomorrow.