In the midst of training for the Bluenose Marathon in May, running has become a big part of my daily life. It seeps into conversations, keeps me up late at night on google, I’ve blogged about it several times, and someday’s, is plastered all over my Facebook news feed.
Everything I have done since January I have done for this race. Every morsel of food, every wink of sleep: fuel for my body.
Every ice pack, every day’s rest, every drop of sweat, bruise, pulled muscle, shin splint. Every setback, minor, moderate or severe, all of it, for the Bluenose.
During today’s run (a new personal best, yaay me!), I had a moment. Some might call it an epiphany, but for now, let’s call it a moment. It was fleeting. Gone and over as quickly as it revealed itself.
I had just finished climbing a particularly challenging hill (at a brisk walk), and was getting set to run down it. I planned to slow back to a walk when I reached the bottom, but found I’d completely zoned out.
Something good was playing in my ears. My brain stopped whirling inside my head, replaying the days events. My breath was calm, my lungs did not ache. My body ceased to move forward, rather the ground below me began to move, carrying me forward. Somewhere along the way, I closed my eyes. A scary thought now, but it felt right in the moment. The calm washed over me. I breathed deep into my belly, and I felt renewed.
Gone were the grueling hours at work today, my sore feet and aching back. Gone were the plans I was making and remaking in my head. Gone were my thoughts on tonight’s dinner, or did I have to pee, or maybe I should take it easy today since my leg was bothering me. It was all gone.
And as I took another deep breath, I got excited. Was this it? Was this the moment I have so anxious and excitedly been working towards? Was this the moment I finally become a runner?
And then it was over.
180 seconds of pure bliss, over in a flash… much like life.
Peace and Love,