2. I run because I don't want to be still
(I originally wrote this in my journal on 13 April, then sat on it for 10 days before eventually publishing it here)
This isn't what I wanted to write on the eve of my 42nd birthday. I wanted to be able to launch my new blog and fundraising page tomorrow with a good number of posts about how much I enjoy running and how good it is for me.
But whilst reading the book 'Present Over Perfect' these past few days, the inconvenient thought has struck that I'm running to get away from something. And I think that 'something' might be stillness. I run because I don't always want to be still.
It's strange because running sometimes helps me reach a place of mental stillness and contentment that I don't always get when I'm physically still. When I'm still, I often get stuck.
But yet, there is also a sense in which my running is (at least sometimes) blatant escapism - a running away from inconvenient 'home truths', a running away from vulnerability and availability, a running away from responsibility, a running away from home, a running away from who I really am.
So yes, my motivations for running aren't always all-together good. And yet. And yet...
(I can't quite work out how best to say this but...)
I think that running also has something important to teach me about (literally and metaphorically) returning home. And if I never ran, I'd never be able to come back.
This isn't what I wanted to write on the eve of my 42nd birthday. I wanted to be able to launch my new blog and fundraising page tomorrow with a good number of posts about how much I enjoy running and how good it is for me.
But whilst reading the book 'Present Over Perfect' these past few days, the inconvenient thought has struck that I'm running to get away from something. And I think that 'something' might be stillness. I run because I don't always want to be still.
It's strange because running sometimes helps me reach a place of mental stillness and contentment that I don't always get when I'm physically still. When I'm still, I often get stuck.
But yet, there is also a sense in which my running is (at least sometimes) blatant escapism - a running away from inconvenient 'home truths', a running away from vulnerability and availability, a running away from responsibility, a running away from home, a running away from who I really am.
So yes, my motivations for running aren't always all-together good. And yet. And yet...
(I can't quite work out how best to say this but...)
I think that running also has something important to teach me about (literally and metaphorically) returning home. And if I never ran, I'd never be able to come back.
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