Slender, in windproof shell and running tights and knit cap, looking the age I want to feel, the guy was loping through the roadside glop this morning, and I envied him.
This latest bout of 'whatever it is that's going around that makes us feel like roadkill' plus the recent pattern of snow storms every 3 or 4 days have conspired to put my running on hold. Yet I'm missing my miles.
I was a tad nervous this morning about driving in to work, seeing that snow of some significance may be falling when I finish my evening classes. But there he was, unfazed, carrying on with his training program (the Marathon in April?) making me feel wimpy.
Okay, I hate running with wet cold feet, and I saw enough other people slip-sliding on under-cleared or slushy sidewalks to know that I could feel uncomfortable if I went out, and I might very well fall--the very last thing I want. But these sound like excuses for hedonistic reluctance. but you whom I saw this morning made no use of them.
Still what's the point of bravado? What am I trying to prove and to whom? That I'm tougher than the weather, tougher yet on myself? Still I admired the self-contained you whom I saw just hustled ahead. It could have been me but wasn't.
The final point is how well I feel after running. It's an exercise, not an exhibition., not a test of willpower.
Since then, I've had an emergency and had to run to get a train. Anxious about time, I nonetheless appreciated the cold dry air, the crisp snow underfoot, my lungs and legs in motion. Ahhh. I'm right behind you, fella.
This latest bout of 'whatever it is that's going around that makes us feel like roadkill' plus the recent pattern of snow storms every 3 or 4 days have conspired to put my running on hold. Yet I'm missing my miles.
I was a tad nervous this morning about driving in to work, seeing that snow of some significance may be falling when I finish my evening classes. But there he was, unfazed, carrying on with his training program (the Marathon in April?) making me feel wimpy.
Okay, I hate running with wet cold feet, and I saw enough other people slip-sliding on under-cleared or slushy sidewalks to know that I could feel uncomfortable if I went out, and I might very well fall--the very last thing I want. But these sound like excuses for hedonistic reluctance. but you whom I saw this morning made no use of them.
Still what's the point of bravado? What am I trying to prove and to whom? That I'm tougher than the weather, tougher yet on myself? Still I admired the self-contained you whom I saw just hustled ahead. It could have been me but wasn't.
The final point is how well I feel after running. It's an exercise, not an exhibition., not a test of willpower.
Since then, I've had an emergency and had to run to get a train. Anxious about time, I nonetheless appreciated the cold dry air, the crisp snow underfoot, my lungs and legs in motion. Ahhh. I'm right behind you, fella.
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