It’s been a year since I last ran. An entire year!
Numerous races later, plus a shoe box full of medals for taking part in different races, I’m reflecting on my decision.
Do I miss it? No. Not one bit!
Even after I managed to get down to a 7 minute mile pace for three miles, I feel a sense of pride that I had done that. But I don’t need to keep on doing it.
Strange, since it had been a big part of my life for 5 years, running 3-4 nights a week. I remember the high I got from running my first ever marathon in Edinburgh, my second one in Amsterdam and my third in North Norfolk.
But that’s all it is. I’ve been there and done that – I even got the T-Shirt.
And this past year?
It’s time to reconnect with my writing instead of running. After all, it’s a form of meditation, an addiction, a form of fulfilment that nothing else can come close to.
But running and writing are similar really. You need goals for both of them to reach an end outcome. You feel a sense of pride finally completing a race/book that you have worked hard for. You can do both in silence or listening to music. The pace and direction can change at will. Both require self-driven motivation to complete. Both can be exhausting. Injuries occur in running and a lack of creativity can occur in writing. Both are crippling to the art.
I guess this is why I don’t miss it, as its been replaced by something else which also needs mental focus and drive.
But I won’t throw my darling trainers away. No, they are currently sitting on a shoe rack, collecting dust, just in case I feel the need to take to the great outdoors and run once again!