And I ran.
Running and I have never been a good match; I would even dare to say we are rather hostile towards each other. As soon as I raise my feet and fasten my pace, my breath catches. My body starts tingling, and my legs feel like lead. I never understood why people ran for pleasure. I am still convinced a big part of the runner enthousiasts are just masochists in disguise.
When I was in high school, we had the feared 'beep test'. Imagine a wide gym that is barely heated in winter, with orange cones on each side in a row. The teacher leaning against the wall, with his baggy joggings and receding hairline, in the middle of the hall, with a chronometer in his hand.
Nothing would give away that this would be the stage for hell raised on earth, yet this was the most dreaded day of the school year. At least it was to me, a chubby kid whose stamina was basically nonexistent. I never got to a full minute of running, and I remember vividly the shame of being the first to not reach the other side in time for the next beep and having to awkwardly clear the field while wheezing my lungs out.
The short, gruff advice I got in the next minute from the teacher while he eyed me up and down didn't make the experience any better.
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
While I do not like the fast-paced version, I have come to appreciate and love the slower implementation as I have grown older; walking is something I truly enjoy and have found a surprising passion for.
It's something that I do almost every day and plan into my holiday as I discovered I'm less a racehorse and more of a draft horse; slow and steady can go a long way.
In the past years and months, I've tried several methods to start to run. Like, literally, using the "start 2 run" training app. But nothing sticks, and nothing makes the running itself pleasurable. I have been training my stamina more in other ways, such as walking fast-paced on an incline, using the stairmaster, biking, etc. So I have not been neglecting that part of my fitness journey.
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
Yesterday, as is tradition in my country, it had been raining for the entire day. As evening approached, the rain finally stopped, and threatening clouds alternated with small patches of blue sky. I paced restlessly and nervously inside my house, halting now and then to look outside.
Lately, life has been an emotional whirlwind. My grandfather, who partially raised me when my father was working and my birthmother was AWOL, had fallen sick. My birthmother has relapsed, and there has been an emotionally draining intervention with the police and ambulance involved.
My mother-in-law has returned home from her revalidation in the hospital, but we worried about her being lonely back home.
As I stopped once again in front of the window and looked at the menacing clouds, I was suddenly overcome by the urge to run.
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
I wish I could say I bolted out of the door right there and then and ran a marathon, Forrest Gump style. The truth is that the only thing that kept going through my mind as I slowly slid into my sport trousers was "why bother?".
But my body seemed to know something I did not. So I fastened my shoelaces and took a deep breath.
And I ran.
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
The only thing I kept telling myself was that I wanted to go on. I knew where I wanted to go. Anything I ran was nice; the remaining part I would walk.
But surprising enough, I kept going.
I passed the hospital at 1.6 km1.
I passed the village center at 3.2 km2.
My legs never felt tired. My breath came in a natural rhythm.
When I passed the 5-kilometer3 mark, I started laughing. I had to recover a little after this sudden loss of breath, but I never stopped. Maybe it was thanks to the fresh air after the rain or the just-slightly-too-cold temperature keeping me from breaking out sweating, but running had never been this doable.
When I completed my tour of the neighborhood, my phone showed me "7,98km4, 48 min.". I had to check twice, thinking the device must have miscalculated or something. But no, there was my route.
All I could do was joyfully laugh like a madman on my front porch, leaning back on my feet, wondering. Marvelling.
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
1
Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.
The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.
(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)
-Walt Whithman, Leaves of Grass, Book VII
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
May the next road you travel be one in good company.
Warm greetings,
Rat