The dreaded entry Part 2

I woke up this morning to the sound of screaming or yelling. Something deep inside was tearing me apart. I was pumped to do my 2 hour run this morning but when i looked at my clothes and shoes, I had this feeling of disgust. Feeling as if I don't want to see it anymore. I don't want to feel good after my run, because I do not need it in my life.

It felt so strange. A break up. I did not pull all my running gear and shoes in a box and yelled "Move out!". I decided to take an easier and more gentile approach and give ourselves some "space".
Running has always been my best friend, a lover that will always understand, a shoulder I could cry on, a crutch I can use when everything in the world is going wrong. I have also mistreated it at times, took it for granted, did not appreciate it to the full extent. Perhaps the time came when we both got sick of each other. When our "routine" became boring, when our lives became meaningless and we stopped giving strength to each other, but rather looking at the relationship as mundane and unimportant.

With tears in my eyes, I made a brand new workout routine. It feels weird to feel my arms buffing up and my shoulders shaping up as well... I know I will lose the cardio. I know it will hurt to intentionally take away my love and my best friend of all times. However, this distance is needed for me to grow, to get stronger all over and to learn that running is a gift, a treasure, a privilege.

The dreaded entry Part 1

Don’t push me cus I am close to… mos def singing on my 14 mile run the other day. Finally really got that song, strangely. Im a catalog. You the same song. Damn, say it boy… I was pounding the pavement for good 2 hours after an awesome party.

I hate when parties are over. I always want to play just one last song to make things last just a tad bit longer. Always felt same way about long races. Races you train for months at a time. All the hard work was put in and now at the last mile I dread the finish line. Two weeks ago I finished my first 50 miler and could have kept on going. I could have ran faster but I stuck to my plan. Maybe for the first time I remember my reason took over my ambitions and ego and made things work beautifully. I enjoyed every step of it… Some of those steps landed on roots and rocks and in deep mud, up and down the switchbacks and steep climbs, but every single step was enjoyable in its own way.

I took breaks to look at swamps with ducks and look up at tall ponderosa pines and try to spot a deer in the forest. I opened up my lungs and took deep long breaths. I enjoyed walking up the steep hills taking my time thinking about how grateful I am that I have two strong legs which allow me to have these unforgettable experiences.

The journey of running for me has been parallel to my journey of life. I have had my highs that took my breath away. I have had my lows where I wanted to disappear because I could not stand living in such pain. Running has always been just that. A life long roller coaster. Though regardless of which routes it took me on it made me realize the most important thing about myself. I have no limits. Not in life, not in running, not in anything I give my whole self to. There are times where I run or live strictly on passion with my eyes closed, guided by something internal -- headed forward or backwards or sideways without real direction. Sure, I have been criticized for that by older wiser folk in my life, though I never really regret living or running that way. There is time and place for being serious and there is time and place for letting the wind carry your somewhere into the unknown.

My realization of the later is what I am grateful for the most. Focus is in place, though I still see how good it feels to allow myself feel free to fall into something that perhaps may not seem rational. It’s good to take risks—maybe run in the conditions which are not suitable for running, maybe take on a task in life which could possibly lead to disappointment, eat food that may taste bad!!!