My posts have been lacking inspiration lately, and I genuinely apologize for that. When I am not running, I am not quite myself. I wish this wasn’t so. I am far more irritable, uptight and unpleasant to be around. (Sorry, Ang.)
Yes, I know – life is too short to be disappointed about something as silly as running. Things could be worse; I could be in a wheelchair or I could be a starving child in Ethiopia, I get it. I am also a big believer in a positive attitude and while I attempt to direct my thoughts they often do their own driving. Running is like a good friend to me, so of course I miss it like crazy when it’s gone.
That said, I am running again and feeling like my usual high-energy self. Last night I was able to complete 8 Yasso’s on the treadmill (still playing it safe) and ended up running 7 1/2 miles. Thank you to Miss. Zippy for the Yasso advice I was ecstatic and practically bouncing off the walls when I left the gym. It was as if I took a hit off the crack pipe. I could hardly sleep last night because I was so wired.
Got me thinking — Am I addicted to running? Are you addicted to running? Is this good? Bad? Neither? Or is it just a LOVE for running?
Hmmm… Love or Addiction? When we injure ourselves, we do everything we can to return to the very activity that led to pain in the first place. We work our a$$es off training, push with everything we have to the finish line, then we eagerly sign up for another race. We are runners. We have grotesque feet with blisters and black toe nails. We go to bed early on Friday night so we can run like crazy Saturday morning. We go both #1 and #2 outdoors when necessary, we eat enough carbs to make any dieter jealous and we spend our hard earned money on races.