So, today's run was ridiculously rough. I had a terrible night's sleep - nightmares and flashbacks galore - and even managed the feat of waking up in tears. Not crying once I'd woken up, no... waking up to find my face wet with tears. You can tell that I wasn't especially rested, right?! The rest of the day involved counselling and a doctor's appointment - such are the delights of post-traumatic stress. And therefore more blubbing.
Now, I know that people say that running is therapy. Well, I'll tell you what. Running isn't therapy. Therapy is hard, draining, emotional stuff. Running should be a joy. Should be freedom. Should be space and time and strength. Then again, today's run was hard and draining... and physically I felt so tired that I struggled to run at all.
I decided to try listening to music as I ran, which I haven't done in absolutely ages. I couldn't find my running rhythm at all. And in the end, I stood, in the cold and dark and listened to the music. Just me. No-one else about. On my own. And wondered what I was doing at all. I didn't really care what I looked like. I closed my eyes. Listened to the music. And stood.
Okay, so maybe I shouldn't have gone for a run at all. Maybe, after 331 days, today should have been a rest day.
No. Sod it. I deserve to attempt to at least try to feel like me. Even if it doesn't pay off. At least I tried.
If there turns out to be no point to running every day, at least I was doing something to find that out rather than staying at home and doing nothing.
Geeky stats stuff
|Avg Pace:||9:22 min/mi|
|Elevation Gain:||110 ft|