I am not a runner.
Today was [finally] noticeably easier than the last four runs. But I still am waiting for it to feel refreshing more than tortuous.
But today was the first day I started noticing a routine. First, the older man in some version of a gray suit waiting on the corner for the metro bus. Next, the man in his pajamas standing in the grass by the sidewalk with his huge fluffy black dog. On the next block is the mid-40's lady crossing the street with her two identical huge white dogs - their leashes inevitably tangled as she halfheartedly and unsuccessfully tries to straighten them out. Followed on the next block by the Obama's look-alike dog walking an older woman up the hill.
It wasn't until I was on my way back- coincidentally going downhill- that I realized I had been writing for the entirety of the run. Putting words to my surroundings. Somewhat lost running through a storybook of colliding characters, their dogs and their houses.
Maybe this is why it was easier this morning - instead of pondering my imminent collapse and the shear pain running through my legs and chest, I was lost in copper drain pipes, the red brick sidewalks interrupted by the roots of ancient trees, the curious people I am beginning to recognize and the beautiful, old and unique homes slowly awakening to the new day.
Still... I am not a runner. Not yet.
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photo found on WeHeartIt
2 comments:
I always write in my head while I run. It does help pass the time if you can get lost in it. (Although, I spend a fair share of the time panting and feeling like I'm about to collapse as well).
Sounds like your consistency is paying off. Keep up the good work! :)
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