That beautiful sound. I’ve been waiting months to hear it. Sweet. Melodic. It’s the first note you hear of a chime blowing in a gentle breeze- not too loud, not too soft. It’s just right. That “Click!”? That’s the Sound of My Running.
It just clicked.
I have always run. Recently, I have been running with purpose. Intention. Direction even. I love it. Running makes me feel ALIVE. Truly alive. However, these past few months have been brutal. Training for a spring marathon this winter has been, at times, agony. Pure. Agony. I have felt like Mother Nature has lassoed me with a resistance band, digging her heels in as I drag her up hill…after hill…after frozen hill. Heart pounding, quads burning, she is there behind me, holding me back.
I am working. (Hard.) I have run the miles. (Many.) And the miles have run my mind ragged. They have left me wondering if this is all worth it. That has never happened. It’s always worth it. The past few weeks I have felt sluggish. I have felt down right slow. It’s pathetic. And it’s killing me. Am I regressing? Why on earth isn’t this making me stronger? I’m not alive. I am floundering. What is my problem? I have been strategically placing hills along my running routes at the worst possible times. They’re awful. But they’re just hills. I’ll get over them.
And I do.
I didn’t just “get” over them. I glided over them. Effortlessly. And not just today. Yesterday. And the day before. My breath, and heart, and legs all moving in harmony. It felt brilliant. I smiled from my core. Each strike of my foot- notes in a beautiful symphony. I loved the sound of it. Ah that glorious feeling! Finally. Three perfect runs. A trifecta of happiness.
I feel strong.
I feel confident.
I feel alive again.
Why? Because I told myself so. And this time I believed me. There is a mental marathon that comes along with training for a 26.2 mile race. It’s tougher than running miles. It’s as if I needed a compression sleeve for my mind. I needed to harness my confidence, to support it. The mind wanders when you flounder- either perceived or actual. The body achieves what the mind believes. Now I just need to keep believing me.