I feel like this is a phrase I have been throwing around a lot lately. Since my very pleasing 5K I have had a seemingly non-stop series of bad runs. Events have conspired such that I had to do my running on the treadmill or with the double jogger. Both of these things lead to miserable and demoralizing results. The treadmill is just a drag and every time I run on it I realize how long the winters here can be and I just want to cry. As for the jogger, yeah, that is 100 lbs of kid and stroller. Add in that where we live is all hills and suddenly a nice walk with the kid is a long stream of, alternately, inducing a heart attack by going uphill with half your body weight in resistance or feeling like your body will snap with the effort required to prevent the stroller from careening down the hill and into the pond. It is hard to feel like you are making a progress when fighting against these things.
So why am I still at it? Because I can still make my body do it. For the first time, ever, I have made my body do something just because I said so.
My body and I have a long history of not seeing eye to eye on things. My weight has always fluctuated with no correlation to diet or exercise. I spent 70 weeks of my life having my body chose my growing babies over me only to have that same body totally crap out and refuse to nourish those children once they were born. I could go on and on here, but the point is that I have never really felt like I could trust my body to get on board with my plans. I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop, the injury to strike or the bizarre illness to roll on in. Yet, with the running this has not happened.
So that is why I was out there today. Running uphill. In the torrential downpour. Against the wind. I was there just because I could be. Just because I can finally say to my body "sorry, this is all happening, and it is happening now." I may never get fitter, or thinner, or faster, but I will forever be able to hold onto this sense of control.
You can't help but feel totally bad-ass when you are streaking up a hill in the rain with the wind whipping your hair and "Stereo Love" blasting in your headphones. This. This is why I run.