05 Aug 2016 Wanderlust
The wonderful thing about a return to running is that there are no expectations of greatness. No expectations, really, of anything – other than… well… perhaps this might hurt a little… or perhaps not? There is, admittedly, some trepidation in the anticipation of it. But really – once the shoes are laced, the ponytail secured and the stopwatch started – all bets are off. Foot meet pavement. (You’ve actually met before, though you may not remember.)
The body remembers (thank god). (The body may not be entirely thrilled about it, but it remembers.)
I’ve put it off for a long time, in part because my expectations *have* been high. With three marathons under my belt, it is challenging to be at the beginning again. (And truth-be-told, I’m *not* – not at the very beginning, not by a long shot; it just feels that way.)
In the olden days, my mind would wander. I would day dream, take mental notes, compose – it’s why I never listened to music when I ran – too distracting. I knew I was in trouble if my mind *didn’t* wander – if I was thinking about the run (how much further? my feet hurt. how many steps up this hill?), I was dead in the water. And this has been the trouble with new beginnings – I couldn’t get my mind to cut loose.
But at long last it’s here. I’ve shaken the expectations free, and it feels new again. And It. Is. Wonderful.