I don’t run with music. I use that time pounding the pavement to make sense of the stuff in my head.
My insecurities. My hang-ups. My goals. My dreams.
My hopes. My grief. My future.
I start with some dynamic stretching and impatient pacing at my watch syncs with the GPS satellites. The first mile and a half is always a PITA before the endorphins kick in.
Once they do…
I focus on the burning in my legs, my running form, and making sure that I breathe evenly. I glance at my watch to check my pace as I try to time crossing the street so I don’t even have to break stride.
The middle part is the best. My body is running on all cylinders. I feel like I could run forever.
During the final stretch, I start thinking about how I’m going to reward myself post-run. What am I going to have for dinner? Do we still have chocolate milk in the house?
As I cool down and stretch my legs, I says prayers of thanksgiving for my strong legs, my health, and my life.