Why I Do It
The Thanksgiving to New Years holiday spread is known for a lot of things—shopping, family get-togethers, and time-off of work. It’s also known for busyness, parties, dinners, cookies, ham, candy, more ham… Amongst all the food and all that is going on, exercise habits tend to wane and eating habits tend toward the fourth deadly sin of gluttony. This holiday season was no different. Somehow maintaining my running schedule through Thanksgiving, it started to die down to “sporadic” about two weeks before Christmas, all the way to non-existent by the week prior.
So last weekend, already well into January, I knew I must take advantage of the rare 60 degree sunny afternoon and get back on the horse. It hadn’t even been 3 weeks, but the gaping space of time filled with cookies and sleeping in nonetheless left me worried about my ability to even run at all. Not trying to set any land speed records, I decided to just try for 3 miles (always my minimum distance) at whatever pace didn’t feel tortuous. My iPod was dead to the world, so I was left with my own thoughts for the 30 minute jaunt around Wilmore.
Sans iPod, I heard a few things that don’t normally reach my ears. One was the sound of my own breathing—in and out, in and out. The second thing I couldn’t help but notice was the pounding of my feet on the pavement. Paired with my panting, at first it sounded laborious, as I imagined my legs made of lead having to turn themselves over, again and again. I asked myself the question I’ve asked a million times before: Why do I do this?
But in the next moment, I was taken with how satisfying and liberating it was. The answer came as swift and sure as my doubt a moment before: Because I can. Because no matter how many times I’ve dreaded heading out there, I’ve never once regretted a run. Because I never wished I would have slept an extra 30 minutes (or 3 hours) instead of running. Because for once in my athletically-challenged life, I’ve found I can actually DO something with a small measure of talent. Because the more I run, the better I get. Because when I ignore my limitations, they start to fade away. Because there are people who can’t. Because there are people who can, but won’t.
Because I can—and will.
The Thanksgiving to New Years holiday spread is known for a lot of things—shopping, family get-togethers, and time-off of work. It’s also known for busyness, parties, dinners, cookies, ham, candy, more ham… Amongst all the food and all that is going on, exercise habits tend to wane and eating habits tend toward the fourth deadly sin of gluttony. This holiday season was no different. Somehow maintaining my running schedule through Thanksgiving, it started to die down to “sporadic” about two weeks before Christmas, all the way to non-existent by the week prior.
So last weekend, already well into January, I knew I must take advantage of the rare 60 degree sunny afternoon and get back on the horse. It hadn’t even been 3 weeks, but the gaping space of time filled with cookies and sleeping in nonetheless left me worried about my ability to even run at all. Not trying to set any land speed records, I decided to just try for 3 miles (always my minimum distance) at whatever pace didn’t feel tortuous. My iPod was dead to the world, so I was left with my own thoughts for the 30 minute jaunt around Wilmore.
Sans iPod, I heard a few things that don’t normally reach my ears. One was the sound of my own breathing—in and out, in and out. The second thing I couldn’t help but notice was the pounding of my feet on the pavement. Paired with my panting, at first it sounded laborious, as I imagined my legs made of lead having to turn themselves over, again and again. I asked myself the question I’ve asked a million times before: Why do I do this?
But in the next moment, I was taken with how satisfying and liberating it was. The answer came as swift and sure as my doubt a moment before: Because I can. Because no matter how many times I’ve dreaded heading out there, I’ve never once regretted a run. Because I never wished I would have slept an extra 30 minutes (or 3 hours) instead of running. Because for once in my athletically-challenged life, I’ve found I can actually DO something with a small measure of talent. Because the more I run, the better I get. Because when I ignore my limitations, they start to fade away. Because there are people who can’t. Because there are people who can, but won’t.
Because I can—and will.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home