078: Running again

After a very long hiatus from exercise, my body has finally returned to adequate doses of intermittent physical strains. My husband and I quite carelessly signed up for 2 races: a 10k and a half marathon. The former just shy of two weeks away and the latter in March. Nothing like an actual test or assessment of one's physical and mental stamina to get one's arse of the couch.

So then we started. Slowly but surely. Going through the motions. And as predicted, with every run, there are less instances of where my lungs screams out for air, or my muscles tense up throwing a hissy fit. I can run longer distances enjoyably. Running and joy: two words I would never have thought to be in my associative vocabulary.

I like running. You really get out what you put in. You can't cheat it, and often it asks or expects more from you than you are prepared to give. The first few kilometres is a mental struggle. All I can think about is why put myself through this torture...
...in the freezing cold...
...and it's raining...
...the ground is covered in mud...
...my socks are wet...
...has it really been only 7 minutes?!?!?!?

But then I reach what I call a threshold. The top of an uphill climb where the internal psychological struggles hushes up and a zone of numbness ensues. I am reading a book my the famous Japanese author, Haruki Murakami - "What I talk about when I talk about running." And he describes this mental state too when he goes out for a run. Mainly, one just enters a quiet place, where just no thoughts or worries are allowed to trespass into the internal psyche. It is so serene; quiet and peaceful. And just like a robot, the body just moves in a paced rhythm.

Sometimes observations might enter your consciousness. Like, "Oh, that grass is pretty" or "Those ducks are eating." Really mundane thoughts. But overall, its just silence. Mind you, this has only happened recently when I am running with my husband. We always plan to talk to one another, to keep the rational mind that is screaming abuse at us at bay. But once we run, we don't really speak. We accompany one another whilst respecting the need for our individual solitude.

However, I have not attempted running stimulus-free alone. I am either listening to podcasts or a musical playlist of some sort. Running alone with solely my uninterrupted thoughts is intimidating. I don't really know why this is considering I go about my commutes never with my headphones in. My thoughts entertain me very much so much so I often take the wrong turn or get lost on long walks. But there is something about running that makes my mind really vulnerable. Thoughts become enemies at war. It literally shouts to end runs before I am ready to finish. It exaggerates pain and simulates failure at every step. But when they shut up, running is so incredibly therapeutic. It drives me to achieve goals and face fears in real life. Cause really, if you can survive a marathon, it is highly likely you are able to survive any life obstacle head on.

We go to a free Saturday 5k every Saturday. I have attended three now, and am planning to do this weekly. When I see people twice my age or even approaching their 70s running miles ahead of us, their feet almost never threading the ground, I think: Man, I want to be them.

Well, here's hoping!