A fantastic person (but not me. yet.)
I was going to start this with "I like to run."
That wouldn't be entirely right.
Even someone who doesn't run knows.
It's hard.
I win races sometimes.
And to win races, I run races.
And to run races, I practice for races.
And to practice for races, I have to work.
It's hard.
It's difficult to describe the feeling.
It starts with dread, then a sort of languished dullness.
A quick moment to think about why I want to run,
But that's hard to tell, too.
I'm not sure why I keep running.
My feet bleed and my legs burn.
It's hard to describe.
Maybe it's even impossible to describe.
Maybe it's different for everyone.
In the end, it takes a while to get up, get ready, and go outside to run.
And even after that, I'm still not sure what pushes me over the edge.
I run up to ten miles a day.
I've run in rain, snow, blistering sun, harsh winds,
Depression, exhaustion, hunger, sickness, grief, rage, and injury.
I run across roads and streets,
Across trails and old wooden bridges,
Through forests and lonely fields.
Some days, I can't run ten miles, and that's that.
Some days, I don't want to run ten miles, and that's that.
When I'm lucky, I can run the full ten miles.
Then I go home and go about my day.
Nothing much changes on those days.
Most days, though, I don't want to run ten miles.
Again, most days, that's that.
But every once in a while, I just happen to be able to focus.
I'm not sure why or how, but I get a feeling.
It's like I stop saying "I."
No, it's more like I stop talking.
And I get distracted.
It's so easy to just think about how tired I am,
How wonderful it is to lie down and rest,
The comfort of home,
The calm of nothing.
I've found a way to distract myself, though.
I imagine.
I dream.
I like to think about a person,
Some fantastical, unrealistic person with an iron will.
They're tough as nails.
They never back down from a challenge.
All the things I face are nothing to them.
I like to imagine that person.
It ends.
It ends.
I've done my ten miles.
I'm not sure this mystery person exists.
At least from my experience, everyone breaks at some point.
But it's thinking about this person that distracts me.
I forget the uncomfortable heat,
Blisters on my toes,
The sweaty clothing.
I wish I could be like that iron-willed, tough-as-nails person.
Again, it's impossible, but with every run, I'm one step closer.
Some days, I can't run ten miles, and that's that.
Some days, I don't want to run ten miles, and that's that.
When I'm lucky, I can run my miles, go home, and continue with life.
Nothing changes.
But on those days where it feels like that and I imagine that person,
I get a little bit more willpower.
I get a little bit, however little, closer to being that wonderful person.
And, even if I know deep down inside that it's impossible,
I get even more committed to keep running.
Maybe it's different for everyone, but at least for me,
I'll get closer to that person, one hard run at a time.