I went for a walk in the park this morning while Charrow did our usual Saturday long run. I thought it would be better than staying home and molding in the apartment, especially given the sunshine. I know it was the best choice, but it made me so cranky because I couldn't appreciate the activity. All those damn runners kept trotting past me, and it was all I could do to resist the urge to pick up speed. I'm sure at some point there will be circumstances that make walking my only option, but right now it feels like watching a movie in slow motion. Be where you are, observe the moment, blah blah blah. Easier said than done when it feels like less of a choice. But I did my best. Listened to This American Life and watched the birds, silently critiqued runners' forms and imagined little things about the people around me or daydreamed about things in my own life. I'm happy to have been outside on a beautiful day (although dressing for walking is different than dressing for running and I was cold the whole time), but I still feel mentally itchy, sluggish, and mopey. And now, a short version of the exact same thing I've been whining about all week (I promise I will write about something else tomorrow):
sometimes the hardest
thing to do is wait until
you can run again
//
patches of muddy
ground show through the snowy crust
watch out for the poop!*
*because sometimes the dog poops sinks below the surface of the snow, and you just can't find it before your hand gets too cold. I also think people become lazier in bad weather, so whenever there's a big snow melt, there are little sodden logs of poo all over the sidewalks.
picture: another view from the listening tower at Teufelsberg, Berlin, Germany, September 2010, film, Canon Tlb
1 comment:
I'm already past that point where running has given way to walking. I must admit, I don't miss the running!
Post a Comment