I Forgot!
What did I forget? That there is no rulebook, that's what. I've had a bad case of the Holiday Season Blues, baby. Seems like every other thought I've had lately has been addressed to my own self and has started out with you should... or, you shouldn't... or, you ought to... or, you ought not... or, you're not right or, you're wrong... or....
You get the idea. For days I've felt like there's a whole boatload of restrictions on that malfunctioning, annoying person who is me. They're all written in a large, forbidding book somewhere, I'm sure--but I can't find that darned book. So how did I come to the realization that I can't find it because it doesn't exist? I had an epiphany, a real doh! moment when, of course, I was on a run.
I went out about 7 am today (haven't been able to get out as early as I'd like during this blue period) and started to run. I ran hard and just kept running, trying to outdistance that inner voice telling me such things as "Real runners don't run in their warmup pants," and "Real runners never walk during real runs," and "Real runners have enough self-confidence that they don't have to wear marathon shirts on training runs to prove they're cool," and even "Real runners aren't old and slow--you are just silly to try and be one." Man, that last one really hurt. I don't want to see myself as silly. I only want to have fun.
That's when it hit me. Oh yeah, fun. That's what I run for. The fun of being outdoors, of seeing things I'd never see any other way, of feeling my aging body loping happily along, my strong heart beating within my sturdy chest. Fun! Then the thought: Hey! There is no rulebook in fun. All this came to me somewhere around mile 8. Along with an additional realization: Running is where I know I can go when I'm blue, whether I run by myself on the Iron Horse Trail or in a group on a weekend training run or even (shudder) on a treadmill. Sad me + a run very often = happy me. And that sounds like a rule, but actually it's a magic equation.
Happy New Year to me and to the rest of the world. May all your runs be happy and rule free!
 |
| Happy geese playing on a spillway near the I-580 / I-680 junction. No one told them geese shouldn't play. |
You get the idea. For days I've felt like there's a whole boatload of restrictions on that malfunctioning, annoying person who is me. They're all written in a large, forbidding book somewhere, I'm sure--but I can't find that darned book. So how did I come to the realization that I can't find it because it doesn't exist? I had an epiphany, a real doh! moment when, of course, I was on a run.
I went out about 7 am today (haven't been able to get out as early as I'd like during this blue period) and started to run. I ran hard and just kept running, trying to outdistance that inner voice telling me such things as "Real runners don't run in their warmup pants," and "Real runners never walk during real runs," and "Real runners have enough self-confidence that they don't have to wear marathon shirts on training runs to prove they're cool," and even "Real runners aren't old and slow--you are just silly to try and be one." Man, that last one really hurt. I don't want to see myself as silly. I only want to have fun.
 |
| Fun this morning was seeing water spilling into the Arroyo. I've live in Pleasanton since July and this month has been the first time I've seen full arroyos, creeks, and ponds. I love it--and the birds do too. Saw two big white herons, but my cell-phone wildlife photography skills weren't equal to my prospective avian subjects. |
That's when it hit me. Oh yeah, fun. That's what I run for. The fun of being outdoors, of seeing things I'd never see any other way, of feeling my aging body loping happily along, my strong heart beating within my sturdy chest. Fun! Then the thought: Hey! There is no rulebook in fun. All this came to me somewhere around mile 8. Along with an additional realization: Running is where I know I can go when I'm blue, whether I run by myself on the Iron Horse Trail or in a group on a weekend training run or even (shudder) on a treadmill. Sad me + a run very often = happy me. And that sounds like a rule, but actually it's a magic equation.
Happy New Year to me and to the rest of the world. May all your runs be happy and rule free!
Comments