Anyone who knows me as a runner would testify that I have a love/hate relationship with running. In fact we metaphorically broke up about a year ago and I haven’t spoke to it much since. I have had little spurts here and there we I would lace up and commit to a few days of running but for the most part I’d almost given up. I was now a non-runner. When you classify your self as a “runner” in the sense that I did, you can’t help but feel you’ve lost a major part of your identity, not to mention running friends.
Meanwhile I’ve been ignoring the smoldering fire, the passion for running. Each day it’s been growing, I’ve been waiting for it to return to a bonfire, but as quickly as it grows it’s doused by something, something unidentifiable but tangible all the same.
I think for me my biggest inspiration in running is the exploring, exploring a new trail, exploring my own limits of endurance, exploring the glorious feeling of being able to seemingly run forever. That’s the flame I’m fanning now. Encouraging myself to go explore what’s out there.
Feel free to throw some logs on the fire.
