So I'm known as the crazy little girl who apparently flies on her feet and gets up at insane, ungodly hours to run in the dark. I can't help it - I love running. But what do I really mean when I say I do?
My love for running extends beyond any superficial preoccupation with exercise and 'trying to lose weight' (which is completely unnecessary in my case, anyway). This is why I really dislike the treadmill. Running on treadmills makes me think I am exercising. I do not want to exercise. I want to run. The workout is secondary. Real running is my main concern. I am not saying running on the treadmill is not 'really' running. It is just a totally different concept. On a treadmill, you do not feel the roughness of gravel beneath your feet. You do not have to sidestep the occasional puddle. The coolness on your skin is from the gym's air conditioning and not the early morning moistness in the air. The scenery is static. In front of you are the telephone numbers of the treadmill's manufacturers that you have memorised, and instructions on how to use it (in English and French). There are buttons to make you start, cool down, or stop. The grey belt goes round and round, a repetitive exercise in circularity.
Through running I find solace. It is amazing how movements so simple and basic in nature can give birth to a passion so complex and overwhelming in all its entirety. One foot in front of the other, gentle swinging of the elbows, and feet light on the ground. Body bent slightly forward; minimal rotation of torso. This is dance. This is self expression. Poetry is being created with every step. My lungs and muscles are singing; my heart is going "Hallelujah!" (or "Bloody hell", depending on how much I'm pushing). This is ecstasy. This is absolute love. Everything is on fire. Outside and around me, perhaps the whole world is quiet and dark. Maybe I can hear the sound of a lone bird, or the song of a cicada. But inside me, blood is roaring in my pulsing veins, neurons are firing like machine guns, fibres are pulling and twisting and working together. I am sweating, breathing, and very, very much alive.
Because I love running, everything else has to be accommodated to fit my running schedule. Early mornings are reserved for me-time. My runs are essentially the only time I get to really lose myself in my own thoughts. I feel the release in my legs, and I feel the release in my mind. Each string of constructed memories and intertwined emotions is carefully extricated and relived in my brain. If a problem needs resolving, I don't sleep on it. I run on it. Why sleep, when you can run? To love running is to not care about how messy your hair is and the fact that it's in sweaty clumps, to disregard the amount of dirt on your legs because your heels kick up dust, to relish the fact that you have very few toenails and the ones left are already falling off, and to proudly display the blisters on your toes when you wear high heels.
Running is serious business. There is much that must be taken into account. A huge component would be food. Food is running fuel. Pre-run loading; post-run reward. Extremely necessary. Not always enjoyable to wake up at 3 a.m. and stuff my face, but it is required for performance. So what is required must be done. Then there is the calculation and spacing out of mileage. How much is too much? Is anything ever enough? Running is mathematics, in a way. Numbers must be balanced, equations must make sense. Problems must be solved. Solutions must be found.
I love running because it goes beyond physical. In fact, running is primarily mental and spiritual for me. No doubt I derive pleasure from the physical aspect of it: The unbreakable rhythm of my bodily movements, the endorphins swimming around in my system, the burning in my calves and thighs when sprinting up a hill, the relief in my legs after finishing a long run. But the ultimate satisfaction is internal. With running there is often chastising of self for not 'doing enough', feeling guilty for missing runs, cursing the weather when it rains and you've already planned and mapped out a whole lovely long route but God, now the whole schedule is going to go awry, etc, etc. Yet with running there is also much room for self-praise, personal gratification, a sense of purpose, and much more besides. I am lucky. I have found meaning for my life through running. Running is not only a passion. It is a lifestyle.
Running is my disease, but it is also my cure.
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