I don't want to jump in unless
Someone once told me that you can't run from your emotions. They meant it in the literal sense, too. But as I pound the pavement it quickly becomes very clear that they were wrong.
In fact, sometimes I wonder if taking this kind of advice was got me where I was; where I am. Putting on weight, socially anxious, hating my body, hating myself, finding all relationships devoid of connection.
Running is surely a coping mechanism for me. I won't deny that. As I run through 30 degree heat, through 60% humidity, through aching blisters, this is clear. The heat envelops me as my feet continue to fall forward, and I swear that this is the kind of ecstasy I feel when I dance. When I drink. When I make love.
That slightly narrowed focus, paying attention to only the moment you are in at present, where nothing else matters but one foot following the other, but sweat dripping off your body, but the pull in your calves.
Sometimes it can feel like you're running down a tunnel. You can only look ahead, because everything is dark around you. You look toward the light and you stick with it. It's in these moments I can understand others' choices of coping mechanisms; swimming, drugs, alcohol, sex. If an activity is all consuming, it's a pretty tempting state to put yourself into when everything is usually coming at you from all angles.
And so it is for me. I'm hot, and this is hard, but this is why I like it. I like the burn in my lungs. I like the redness of my face. I like the tension in my body. I like me during and after my run.
So I've been told to slow down in the past - and I gave it a go. I cut out what I could. Unfortunately, I cut out what fuelled me. I cut out dance. I cut out emotional connections. I cut out running.
And as the heat taunts me and my body thanks me, I know that this is not something I can live without again.
In fact, sometimes I wonder if taking this kind of advice was got me where I was; where I am. Putting on weight, socially anxious, hating my body, hating myself, finding all relationships devoid of connection.
Running is surely a coping mechanism for me. I won't deny that. As I run through 30 degree heat, through 60% humidity, through aching blisters, this is clear. The heat envelops me as my feet continue to fall forward, and I swear that this is the kind of ecstasy I feel when I dance. When I drink. When I make love.
That slightly narrowed focus, paying attention to only the moment you are in at present, where nothing else matters but one foot following the other, but sweat dripping off your body, but the pull in your calves.
Sometimes it can feel like you're running down a tunnel. You can only look ahead, because everything is dark around you. You look toward the light and you stick with it. It's in these moments I can understand others' choices of coping mechanisms; swimming, drugs, alcohol, sex. If an activity is all consuming, it's a pretty tempting state to put yourself into when everything is usually coming at you from all angles.
And so it is for me. I'm hot, and this is hard, but this is why I like it. I like the burn in my lungs. I like the redness of my face. I like the tension in my body. I like me during and after my run.
So I've been told to slow down in the past - and I gave it a go. I cut out what I could. Unfortunately, I cut out what fuelled me. I cut out dance. I cut out emotional connections. I cut out running.
And as the heat taunts me and my body thanks me, I know that this is not something I can live without again.
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