Sometimes, running is the easiest thing I do in a day.
Sometimes, it is literally the most gut-wrenching, sluggish feeling, draining task on my agenda.
Today was one of those days. I went out the door eagerly enough, but less than five minutes in, I was spent. I kept going for another thirty minutes, partly to prove I could, partly because I was already sweaty, and partly because I had Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s playing in my ears. Rarely have I been so happy to step back inside and lie on my living room floor, though.
I do it, though. Even when I am sick. Even when I want to turn around. Even when I almost get hit by two separate cars on two separate occasions. Even when dogs chase me, or the sun beats down on me to the point that I can feel my ears starting to burn, or my brother outruns me after he has not run in three months. Maybe that’s how I know it is real. I love running, even when I hate it.