Running as Metaphor

I'm always amazed at what a metaphor for life running is. Maybe it's because I'm a runner that I see them...?

(I got out again this morning. That's the second time this week. That's how I know, for sure, that I am on the mend in my life. Progress is slow, yes, but any forward movement is progress, and for that I can be grateful.)

Some runs are effortless, just like some days. There is a certain joy in the ease of them. My body is on autopilot, taking me through the streets. I don't have to think about it, I just move forward. The conditions are perfect, there is nothing difficult about it. These kind of runs are what keep me doing this on a regular basis. We all have those effortless, autopilot days. They are good, but there's not a lot of challenge in them.

Sometimes (particularly lately) getting out there to run is just too much to face. Either the outside conditions, or my own mental state just won't allow it to happen. It's like those days when you've got nothing to give to the world. Just not gonna happen. Fact of life.

And then, there are runs like the one I had today. Days when the conditions are far from perfect. My spirit was willing, my body was tentative, unsure. The wind whipped around me, biting my cheeks, blowing through my clothes, tossing little stinging chards of snow into my eyes. This morning, though, I was ready for it. I turned my face into the wind and met it with a huge grin. The wind blew hard, trying to blow me backwards. It almost succeeded.

And that's when I asked myself, "How bad do I want it?"

I chanted it in my head, "How bad do I want it? How bad do I want it? How bad do I want it?"

The answer came back to me loud and clear:

I want it.

This morning's run reminded me of why I love running so much. It was difficult. I had to push myself to get out the door, to keep my body moving, to keep pressing forward. But it reminded me of what I am capable of.

I can do this.