I am fat. Well, not completely fat by typical American standards, but my gravitational pull is definitely increasing. Oh how the mighty have fallen. I used to be a fantastic runner. I was addicted to the rush of it all - the sound of the lonely trail crunching at my feet, the steady rhythm of each long breath and just the clarity that comes with such solitude. I remember waking up feeling the burning need to hit the trail, before breakfast, before school, before saying good morning to a single person. Then the need would hit again in the afternoon, and before I knew it the shirt was off and I was off, in whatever shoes and shorts I was wearing. Direction didn't matter. Time didn't matter. Just running fast and long. 3 miles - a joke; 5 miles - just getting warmed up; 8 miles - a decent run; 10 plus - true runner. Now, lets compare. I still see a trail and something deep inside feels the old rush but the discipline and drive are gone. I woke up this morning with the burning need to eat a chocolate cupcake and this afternoon I will most assuredly be keeping my shirt on as I consider taking off in search of a milkshake. Pathetic. Maybe, just maybe, today will be the day the runner returns, but I'm pretty sure he is not going to magically appear, perhaps some work is involved.
P.S. It is now 3 hours since I wrote the blog, and, hold the applause, I went for a quick 2 mile run. I wish I could say it was a blissful experience....but it wasn't. I feel good I did it, and it felt good for about the first 3 minutes, but after that - pain. Hopefully, tomorrow's will be better.
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