I think that the detachment from running has given me some perspective. Over the last few months running had become my way of dealing with issues. The runner’s high gave me unique insights; the opaque became clear. In a few cases it illuminated shadowy decisions where I made huge mistakes, but that’s another story. Long trail runs became sessions where answers would just arrive. Since I have not run for a little over a week the answers are simply not coming.
Often I get so involved with some “thing” that I lose sight of why I even started doing it to begin with. Ago, I fought with the “black dog” (a la Churchill) with random pubs and regretful encounters. These became fragments of who I thought I was with no unity or uniformity; just chaos with a few randoms sprinkled in. Running and an active lifestyle squared me away. Similarly as before I had forgotten why I started being “fit”. I started because I wanted to live and I was tired of the life I had led to that point (Dec 2009). I was not productive, lazy and complacent and that is not me; at least I did not think it was until I took a long look in the mirror. After that long look my mind changed and I discarded those things which held me back.
Fitness gave me a healthy goal that made me feel better and translated to my relationships with others. I try to be as kind and good to people as possible and many times I fall devastatingly short but I give it a good go. I got into the whole natural running and the VFF /barefoot running movement. After reading “Born to Run”, I swore I was part Tarahuama, but after a few hundred yards that delusion did not really pan out. I had to struggle and my calves reminded me that I am just like everyone else and not a superhuman. Running made me humble. Some days feel like Crowie, flying down hills and running down every runner on the road; other days I am the guy in “Office Space” sitting in traffic with the old man in the walker (with tennis balls at the bottom) moving faster than he is.
I am very lucky to have people close to me that are conscious of my black dog. Two people in particular have been there to help me out in opposite ways. One of them is hard on me and will not put up with my whining, the other is kind and offers helpful solutions that I have to try and remember or write down, or else I forget. I really do have a short memory for a lot of things, I remember the trivialities but not the big stuff, but I am working on it. Anyway, they mean a lot to me, easily my best friends and part of the handful of people I actually trust.
Anyway I am sorry about the randomness. I am feeling better, even though I am not running. Hitting some wedges at the range yesterday helped. It was a lot of three quarter and half swings. Surprisingly accurate and I felt my muscles a lot more relaxed than I remember. I know my breathing was a lot better. A deep breath before a partial swing was resulting in 5-10 yards of extra carry on the wedges ergo visa vi I am excited to hit full iron shots when the leg heals up. I guess this whole returning to a more natural state has had a positive effect on my big boy marbles game. Hopefully it continues to translate and make me a better person and improves other areas of my life…I just have to remember to slow down and appreciate them.
Often I get so involved with some “thing” that I lose sight of why I even started doing it to begin with. Ago, I fought with the “black dog” (a la Churchill) with random pubs and regretful encounters. These became fragments of who I thought I was with no unity or uniformity; just chaos with a few randoms sprinkled in. Running and an active lifestyle squared me away. Similarly as before I had forgotten why I started being “fit”. I started because I wanted to live and I was tired of the life I had led to that point (Dec 2009). I was not productive, lazy and complacent and that is not me; at least I did not think it was until I took a long look in the mirror. After that long look my mind changed and I discarded those things which held me back.
Fitness gave me a healthy goal that made me feel better and translated to my relationships with others. I try to be as kind and good to people as possible and many times I fall devastatingly short but I give it a good go. I got into the whole natural running and the VFF /barefoot running movement. After reading “Born to Run”, I swore I was part Tarahuama, but after a few hundred yards that delusion did not really pan out. I had to struggle and my calves reminded me that I am just like everyone else and not a superhuman. Running made me humble. Some days feel like Crowie, flying down hills and running down every runner on the road; other days I am the guy in “Office Space” sitting in traffic with the old man in the walker (with tennis balls at the bottom) moving faster than he is.
I am very lucky to have people close to me that are conscious of my black dog. Two people in particular have been there to help me out in opposite ways. One of them is hard on me and will not put up with my whining, the other is kind and offers helpful solutions that I have to try and remember or write down, or else I forget. I really do have a short memory for a lot of things, I remember the trivialities but not the big stuff, but I am working on it. Anyway, they mean a lot to me, easily my best friends and part of the handful of people I actually trust.
Anyway I am sorry about the randomness. I am feeling better, even though I am not running. Hitting some wedges at the range yesterday helped. It was a lot of three quarter and half swings. Surprisingly accurate and I felt my muscles a lot more relaxed than I remember. I know my breathing was a lot better. A deep breath before a partial swing was resulting in 5-10 yards of extra carry on the wedges ergo visa vi I am excited to hit full iron shots when the leg heals up. I guess this whole returning to a more natural state has had a positive effect on my big boy marbles game. Hopefully it continues to translate and make me a better person and improves other areas of my life…I just have to remember to slow down and appreciate them.
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