Runners Are Strange

One of the perks of living in Florida is 68 degree weather in January.  Of course, one of the downsides is the batshit politics, but we will ignore that for now…

Today I took advantage of the gorgeous weather and ran a 5K (3.2 miles).  My running habit should convince you that a) I am only marginally sane and b) that I enjoy pain more than the average person.  I am not a gifted runner.  I do not breeze through a 5K effortlessly.  But I am determined.  Hella determined.

I quit running during our last bout of trying to get pregnant.  I had run throughout the two week wait during all the previous attempts but felt as though I should try one cycle sans running… you know, just to see if it made a difference.  And, lo and behold, I got knocked up.  I walked the same 5K route during my 7 week rendezvous with pregnancy.  But walking just isn’t the same.  And one of the first things I thought after I found out for certain that I had miscarried was… holy shit this sucks.  But after that, it was… I can go for a run!

This enthusiasm clearly marks my teetering on the brink of sanity because I don’t really LIKE running.  Or I thought I didn’t.  I have always liked the post-run afterglow.  And feeling accomplished and strong, in a way that only running can instill.  But looking forward to running?  Not usually.

But, sure as hell, as soon as I deemed it physically possible, I tied on my shoes and headed out on my regular route.  The first run was intoxicating.  I had been experiencing wicked cramps from the misoprostol, and running made them disappear (at least WHILE I was running.  They came back with a vengance later).  I immediately was hooked.  In fact, I loved running so much that I totally would have married it (if that wouldn’t be super-strange, and if I wasn’t married to Monkito…).

I spent the past week working back up to a 5K.  I mixed walking and running, trying to ease back in without hurting myself.  Moderation has never been my strong point.  And today, today people… I ran the entire route.

And as finished up my sprint toward my imaginary finish line, I muttered, “F*ck, yeah” under my breath… just like I have countless times before.  It feels good run again.  It feels even better to know that, although the past few weeks have been shitty, I am going to be okay.  F*ck, yeah.

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One Comment on “Runners Are Strange”

  1. Miss Kris Says:

    Your posts about running really, really, really make me want to run. I have friends here that run marathons. But, I was told years ago by some medical practitioner that I should not run on hard surfaces because of my messed-up back. Treadmills are OK, but I tried that and got bored out of my skull. I want to run OUTSIDE.

    Maybe I should talk to my current chiropractor and see what she says…

    And maybe, someday, we can run a marathon together.

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