My trainer has suggested that I run. RUN! I explained to her my love/hate relationship with running … How I’ve been a ‘runner’ in the past, how I even completed a half marathon at one point (a sad, cry-face half marathon because my friend had to drop out a few days before because of health problems with her father and my boyfriend had just had knee surgery the week before, so I was all alone at the start and finish … and at every point in between …) and how after that I NEVER WANTED TO DO THIS STUPID RUNNING THING AGAIN BECAUSE IT MADE ME CRY.

And she was like, “Ok, your romantic relationship with running aside, how does it usually make you feel.” And I was like, “Crap, I’m going to start running again now, aren’t I?”

I got new shoes on Saturday, and spent some time thinking about what I used to get out of running. Energy, adrenaline, confidence, strength, that little zen place you find in your head when you feel like you could do this (THIS … with this rhythm and this feeling and this steadiness and this breath flow) possibly forever … and then you lose your grip on the place and now you’re struggling, and want to stop right now, and are gasping and trying to find your way back there and … oh … there it is again … right when you need it.

Yesterday I had my first real run after a year-plus hiatus. I ran 2.25 miles (not to shabby after a very long break) and am ready to pick this up again. Because running didn’t make me cry … not really. And anyway I think I’m ready to forgive it.