Like the Wind
I've started running again.
Not a lot, because it makes my knees angry. But just enough, so I can feel good about the 5K I'm running at the end of March. I want that race to feel like a goal well-achieved, not a hurdle barely-survived.
I used to run a lot, back in my high school track days. But I never really liked running. I liked being on a team - that sense of belonging. And I liked having run, much like Dorothy Parker liked having written. But I rarely enjoyed the actual act of running, in the moment.
After high school, I gave up running almost entirely. Except when I was mad. Like, really mad. Like, there is no other way to respond to this emotional state than just to run like hell.
That kind of running is immensely cathartic. This new kind of running - this methodical, goal-oriented kind of running - is different. It's not entirely unpleasant. I think I'm enjoying it, though I'm not entirely sure yet. Give me a couple more weeks.
The past few Saturdays have been blue-sky lovely, so I ran around the reservoir in Central Park. Hard not to enjoy those views, at the very least. Yup, there are worse ways to spend a Saturday morning.