Five measly miles and my legs are sore. Achy sore, not needs-a-good-stretch sore. Not sure what's up with that.
Saturday morning, I took my running to the lakefront path for the first time since my "injury." I was going to run approximately four miles, but I was having such a lovely time that I decided to add a little distance to that destination. So five it was.
Lovely doesn't even begin to describe it. There are a lot of people out there who don't run (yet). I was one of those people, and the idea of running down the block much less five miles was horrifying. And it's very hard to verbalize, the thing that keeps one coming back to the pavement, that forces us to endure pain and can often lead to injuries. But when I have a good run, honest to God, I feel like I am capable of anything, like the keys to the universe have been handed to me, and an amazing life is right here in front of me, and is mine for the living. It makes so grateful for the present, for the journey and how far we can travel in such short periods of time, and it makes me more than hopeful--downright giddy sometimes--about what the future might hold.
I don't know that this is everyone's experience. I doubt it is, but like so many things, the reason we runners run is probably as universal as it is individual. And sure, there are the more bland reasons to run, like your health and blah blah blah, and I suppose that that's why most of started moving in the first place. But, when I make bold statements like, "running changed my life," (Hell, I started a blog to back up that sentiment) it is without a hint of sarcasm that I do so. I will never ever ever stop running as long as I can run. And it's not about marathons or half marathons or 5ks or PRs. Nope. Those things are fun, but in the larger sense, there is no better way to know that you're alive than to run as far as you can manage.
Remind me of this one week from now when my self-imposed sidelining leads me to be super pissed that the weather at the Chicago Marathon is perfection.