6 miles
When Freddy saw me lacing up my running shoes this morning, he was shocked (or maybe more precisely, not pleased) that I was going out running again. "12 hours later, after you finished your run, you are going at it again?.." He still "doesn't get it" (I can't blame him :))... how can any normal person... it makes no sense. Why would anyone want to daily self-inflict pain, make herself uncomfortable. It’s precisely because of the pain though, I can get the feeling, through the process, of really being alive—or at least a partial sense of it. And after 56 days, it's actually become a joy now. Yes, my legs buckle sometimes, yes, knees hurt sometimes, yes, I don't feel like getting outside of the house and pushing myself most of the days. But precisely because of the above, the process has become "enjoyable" (I can't describe why or how, it just has).
All pride, all confidence is out of the door - every day it boils down to - can you do it, and will you do it? I also feel younger, much younger than I felt even in my 20s (maybe it's a physical thing, maybe it's an emotional thing, who knows and who cares)... but everything tastes better after that good run. Last night when Freddy brought me water - it tasted delicious.
I have only a few reasons to keep on running, and a truckload of them to quit. All I can do is keep those few reasons nicely polished.
Day 56.
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