I wrote this post yesterday. I was, in my opinion complaining about having to start over. I was grousing about how long and dank winter in Vermont was. Winter was like a dungeon and yesterday I was that creaky prisoner released with the squinty eyes of one who has not seen light for a decade.
I woke up this morning glad I made the effort and a voice called out from the depths, it was very quiet as it was so far away, “do it again”.
I had to chuckle. I dismissed it. “Oh, you little imp. I need to recover from yesterdays exertions. I am older now and don’t heal like I used to. Now run along.”
The irony is not missed. I told the voice that was telling me to run to take a hike.
I moved through my day and the voice kept repeating like a mantra, “do it again”.
I was starting to get agitated. I can’t possibly put my body through that again. I was pretty sore last night, but not really today.
“do it again”
Alright voice. I’ll show you. You know you are going to crap out after I put on the shorts, lace up the shoes, and apply the anti chafe regiment.
Out the door I went. It was 65° today. The sun warmed my skin and felt like the breath of an intimate. Trepidation evolved into this pleasant feeling. My legs felt like a newborn colt standing, a bit of unsteady and wobble. Whenever I have seen a video of the newborn foal rising for the first time, it is always a joyful celebration for the observer, not an anxiety ridden pox on the devil for making this necessary. I had a bit of that same joy.
I ran my intervals, exhilarated at those moments when I ticked off each next achieved goal.
At run’s end. I conceded and apologized to the voice of which I was so dismissive. I thought I might be crazy for going out and trying to run again (I don’t think I am crazy for arguing with inner voices). I had run the day before and was convinced it had harmed me. I alluded I didn’t love it anymore. Today I did.