Running On Empty

Today I went for a run.

My verdict: hm... I don't know.

Here's what I do like: the sound of my feet slapping the ground, the luxurious feeling of ultimate stability and strength in both my knees and no pain at all. I also like the sun on my back and on the curve of my shoulders, warming them up like microwave ovens. I like the shadow that ran beside me as well, strong and black and in form, never wavering. 

 I like the fact that I can go anywhere without having to brake. Or do a flip turn.

 What I don't like: how tiring it was. I have lost the art of running, if there was an art to it at all. I think I only ran for 10 minutes, and I'm pretty sure the distance was less than 2km, nothing more, but I just felt tired. I was thinking about how it easy it was to hop on my bike and get a good workout, or jump into the pool and feel physically taxed.

 Returning to running for me is a bit like giving your first love a second chance. Over the period of separation, so many things have changed. You are not the same person you were, and so is the other partner. The bad thing about giving it another go, like in any recycled relationship, is expecting things or each other to remain the same. I thought, well, I didn't know what I thought. Maybe I thought we'd hit it off. That I'd just be striding with ease like the old days. I never expected to stop at minute 10, because I felt a twinge in my knees and I got so nervous that the injury is back.

 Worrying while working out doesn't, excuse the pun, work out.

But I do feel there's hope. Even if I went back, and squeezed in some good 2 hours of yoga.