Last night I went out for a run. A short one. I haven’t been really training when it comes to my running. I prefer to let my knees take more rest than they needed, only running when the urge hits. And last night my lack of running showed.
It’s just one of those days when you feel wistful. For the most part, I am ok with what I have and what I could do. For every shortcomings I have, there are many others who couldn’t even enjoy a simple walk. But there would be days where I feel somewhat frustrated with the situation.
My running partner was fast and seemingly has no limits to her energy. She kept a fast, stiff pace, and the only thing that was more audible than the steady poundings of our feet against the tarmac was my labored breathing. Granted, we did spend most of the run talking; but she was steadily moving forward, and I was struggling to keep abreast and the same time trying to regulate my breathing. It was at that moment I realized what a far cry this was to the Me before – the only struggling I did was during trainings where I really pushed myself, and even then I wanted to pant. The old me was not fast, but at least she was strong.
Sometimes I miss feeling the buzz of wind passing through my ears. I miss knowing that running is THE best thing I have in my life, the one thing I could do and do it right, do it well. That sense of belonging was what helped shaped me in my teenage years, where friends learned the art of smoking and chasing the dragons, wild parties and what have yous, and I was at the track, doing my runs up the bleachers and around the dreaded ‘oval’. Some girls were the Prom Queen, the Socialite, the Class Nerd, the Trainwreck, and I was always in the middle – the Runner, not too glamorous but not a complete social overcast, complete with the rubber elastic around my wrist so I could tie my hair up anywhere, anytime.
Nevertheless I finished the run with the faster-than-I-would-like pace. I’m proud that well, at least I still ‘have it’. I might be gasping like I’m having a heart attack on a flat route, but I finished it, that’s what matters. And the best part was my knees were not complaining. In fact, they have been silent for some time now.
What’s your weekend cardio? I love the weekend. Too many things to do, too little time. Cherish every single second!