Runaway Future

Sometime in the last three months, I picked up an addiction. To running.

After spending the last couple years just picking at it, enjoying the freedom of running off the day, picking up and going and just being away from it all, going at my own pace, whereever I chose, sometime over the last few months, it became much more.

Perhaps it was running in the rain, or the first time I dragged my ass out of bed early in the morning to pound out 5k before work. It might have had a bit to do with the extra 10 pounds I put on over the last year, due to my own laziness and then my ankle (I’ve since taken 7 of the pounds off), but actually I like to think that didn’t have as much to do with it.

But somewhere between the summer and now, something clicked in my head and now it seems perfectly normal to be jumping over snow banks, running in short strides as not to fall in my old soccer track pants, three shirts, bandaged nipples, gunk all over my upper thighs and a runny nose.

I’ve done 14k twice now, which is my peak so far. However, I’m signed to run a half-marathon in February. All I want to do is run farther and I couldn’t be happier.