I’m told that the Zen way to deal with depression is to welcome it in. To not fight it. This is the attitude I took as I stepped out of my house this morning. It was a little too late, but I had 4 miles of block to block 2/1 on tap. I would run 2 blocks, then walk 1, and increase the mileage to 4.
I felt the fire. I did not relish the run, but knew from past experience that the only way through it, is, well…through it. In only moments, I started to feel the constriction of my chest…thinking this is not going to be good…and NO…it’s not a heart attack. I’ve been thinking I was having a heart attack for about 10 years now. No, my doc says I have the lungs of a 35 year old. Seriously.
I started the block to block and with high hopes of nailing this recovery run…just kept going. I headed over the overpass, by all the familiar places, and it was like the feeling you get when you go to have coffee with a good friend. I remember this park, and that street, and how many marathons have I trained on Spring Creek Road? (The answer: 5).
I turned at a place in the hood where there are usually a yard full of attacking chihuahuas. We always smile at them…as they chase right to the curb and then stop.
Up over the overpass, and as I headed down, that familiar lightness of a tiny shot of endorphins punctured my lungs. And suddenly. Lighter, freer.
My little fire was gone by mile 1, and I simply moved into the beauty of the day. This. This is why I run.