I finally got high.

February 6, 2008 – 8:23 pm |

I gave up a lot of things during the holidays and the doldrums of January.   I didn’t just quit blogging, I took an much less intended breather from exercise.  But, finally, last Saturday on my favorite holiday, Groundhog Day, when the temperature briefly jumped enough to take it outside, I met up with Running again. 

Last year at this time I wasn’t a runner. In fact, well into the spring of last year, I hated Running.  During the early parts of my training for last fall’s Twin Cities Ten Mile, I had to give myself strange assignments (like silently, and geekily, reciting the Periodic Table of Elements) to help pass the time when I was running, to keep me moving, to avoid thinking about how much I hated it. 

Throughout my training, I kept waiting to feel that “high” that runners always talk about.  I kept waiting to experience that “lost time” where I just wandered into my thoughts oblivious to my aching legs and burning lungs and forgot I was running.  Unfortunately, it never really happened. 

To be honest, even when I ran the Ten Miler, the first half went okay, but I spent miles 6-9 arguing with running.  The mantra Boy, running sure sucks would start to creep into my head, and I would push it away.  At about mile 7, when I couldn’t keep pace with my friend D. any more, Running and I got into an argument. 

“You’re right,” Running said, “this does suck, why don’t you just walk.”  And I said, “*&&^ you, Running. I gave birth to nine pound babies. I can do anything for twenty more minutes.”   

Despite the argument, I was elated to finish, and looking forward to keeping up my training.  But I sort of fell off the wagon, and I really hadn’t run, at least not for any length or with much consistency, since the race - until last Saturday, when I crawled back on. 

As it happens, by the time I got out running on Saturday, I really had myself all worked up about a number of personal issues, including, of course my purported crisis de blog about which I’ve been whining endlessly.  Somewhere around mile 2  it occurred to me that I have a nasty need for purpose and structure that sometimes holds me back.  It occurred to me that  I don’t really need to have A Great Bloggy Plan.  I don’t really need to know why I’m writing or for whom.  The thing about the format of the weblog is that I can just blog when I can about what I can … just because I like it, and that’s reason enough.    

The fact that this came as a complete shock to me should give you some insight into one of my faults (one those who know me observe frequently) - I can spend a whole lot of time analyzing, worrying and stressing my way to conclusions that seem quite obvious.

I was still mulling all that over Saturday during my run when I suddenly realized that I’d run more than a mile without paying any attention at all to Running.  I had made it to the end of my goal  without thinking about Running once.  Not only was I lost in my brain, oblivious to the physical strain, but I also had such endorphin-induced clarity of vision. 

As I walked to the car, smiling and contemplating all this, Running piped up enthusiastically, “So, Leo, does this mean we’re finally friends now?”

“Nope,” I replied, “We’re still not friends.  Now, Running, you’re totally my bitch.”