Winded

A Sunday, in October, in Tacoma, and it's beautiful. 75 degrees with blue sky and little breeze, an out of place day in what should be perpetual grayness. I should go running, it's been months, my waistline and legs can attest to that fact. I go through spurts of running, for no reason at all, I sometimes cannot live without and other times want nothing to do with it.

I park at the busy waterfront, lost in people who had the idea hours earlier, more motivated, dedicated, and in shape. I start with walking, unsure if running is really something I want to do, it's usually not. I start second guessing my running clothes, never a huge fashion icon, now in front of people, I sudden become well aware of how tight my clothes are and how I must look. Heavy. My logical mind will eventually kick in to reassure me that no one cares and though I feel like an elephant trumping on the sidewalk, it is highly unlikely that anyone else will follow my self esteem derailing train of thought.

Just shut up and run already.

As I change my pace from a slow stroll to a jog, the same thought enters my head that has always entered my head, whether it's a first run in months or I've been running consistently for weeks. "I hate running, this sucks, why am I doing this?" which almost always followed by "ow ow ow ow, my ankle hurts, my knee aches I should stop." The ow is usually in beat with the sound of my shoes hitting the sidewalk. About 5 minutes in I realize the same conclusion most do, oh this is not so bad, I could run for miles (I can't).

I let the pace take me, feeling the sun beat on my face and feel the breeze coming off the water, for a moment I am lost in my thoughts and forget that my legs are practicing a movement I have denied them for too long. A laundry list of priorities and do to's fill my head as I move past dozens of strangers, no longer aware of my previous obese size, which seems so crucial only minutes before. Too soon I become winded beyond recovery and my legs seize up and demand ease. I oblige only to be left feeling empty and yearning for the feeling of the run that gave me reprieve of my thoughts that too often turn dark.

The thrill of the run stays with me long after I have stopped and my mind has returned to it's normal function. There is something beautiful and pure about running, when not only my lungs but my demons, if only temporarily, are winded.