I have just discovered that running is an activity that is very similar to riding a bike, swimming, skating, playing an instrument or any kind of sport, eating chocolate and having sex: once you have done it at least once in your lifetime and even when you have not indulged in a little while, your body still just knows what to do and enjoys it oh-so-much when you do go for it.
I was sitting at my computer, aimlessly and guiltily wasting my time on Facebook when I should have been doing a bunch of other more important and significant chores and duties, when my wonderful roomie asked me quite nonchalantly if I wanted to go for a run with her. My first response would have been, "Nah... I had not planned on running today and I have tons of things to do..." - remember what I was doing, right? The funny thing is that when you have not run in a while because of many more-than-enjoyable yet sleep-deprived nights, days spent doing various sorts of physical gymnastics or because of your body's discomfort due to a strange and seemingly implausible physical situation, your first instinct is to NOT go running when asked - in fact, you want to do quite the opposite at the mere mention of the word "running", or you DO want to run, but you want to run away screaming and flailing your arms from the word and the act of running. However, I surprised both me and my roommate when I actually said, "Yeah, sure. Just let me get dressed and I am right there with you."
I felt better than I had all weekend as soon as I pulled on my worn-in jogging pants that are way too thin to be running in at this time of year, my usual thin black long-sleeved shirt, my gray Cuisines Crotone sweater, my faded navy blue polar fleece sweater that is way too big for me, my striped running scarf and my black Piglet tuque - what a beautiful runner I make, let me tell you. Lululemon ain't got nothing on me. I topped off my killer running outfit by adding my navy blue and turquoise striped gloves that I normally have to take off anyways when I get too warm - yes peeps, you do actually get warm when you jog outside in the winter. I could already sense my mood lifting as I slipped on my ancient sneaks and made sure that my house key was well-tied onto the laces of my right shoe. I was ready and yet dreading this run a little because I had not jogged in a while... cannot even tell you the last time I had run, so it might have been closer to Christmas time or perhaps early in January. Regardless - I was feeling more reluctant than energetic and yet at the same time I was feeling a familiar tugging and pulling to be out there on the snow-covered pavement, letting my feet carry me on my customary route.
I knew I had made the best impulsive decision I have ever made in a long time as soon as Sharon and I started running. My lungs relaxed from the initial cold shock, my feet felt the familiar squish, slop and slickness of the snow and slush and my arms tensed slightly while they began to swing alternately. We reached the main street close to our apartment and it stretched out in front of me in a non-threatening manner; the sun at this point in the day was high in the sky and its rays kissed the tips of our noses and our exposed cheeks. The wind was on vacation that day and the air was just crisp enough to make you want to start moving somehow and yet not cold enough to make you want to turn back immediately.
Once we got going on the main street, I was surprised to find that it was much easier than I had anticipated and I was able to keep a steady pace. In between breaths, Sharon and I chatted about the men in our lives, my stay at the General and my recent altercation with my best friend so that we could forget about the fact that we were in fact running! Pretty soon though, I reached that magical running moment when I feel as though my body can just keep on going and going and never stop... and it felt amazing.
I convinced Sharon to do all of our usual trajectory, passing by the bus booth that used to have OUR husband GSP's clothing ad, retracing our steps and then continuing until the Belanger light and by the end of it my pace kept increasing until I reached the Desjardins goal and pumped my fists into the air à la Rocky. My calf muscles began to throb dully as they usually do after a run, just to let me know, like recalcitrant children, that they had in fact worked hard for me and I should recognize their effort. My cracked and bruised heart was buoyed up from the bottom of the ocean of emotion it had been drowning in since Thursday and all of the endorphins released in my body were having a party and I had been invited.
What a great run that was and here's to many more! Only TWO more months left before the Minto Race of 10km... BRING IT!!!
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