Running, but not running away

I run in the forest.

I run because I hate it. I hate the cold air that hits me as I step outside. I hate the feeling when I lift my feet and start moving. I hate that my lungs hurt as they fill and empty, I hate the stitch, I hate the tightness in my legs on the way out, and the heaviness on the way back. I hate the half of my mind that says ‘just stop now, you’ve done enough, you’re no use at this anyway’ and I hate having to push the other half to fight back and say ‘fuck you’.

I listen to music, because I cannot bear to hear my breathing – it reminds me how hard my body finds the job I am asking it to do. I see the trees swaying in the wind, and the swifts swooping over the sand dunes. I feel the stones shift beneath my feet and I smell the pine trees piled up by the side of the path. But I only hear music.

When I have run 5km (or 6km, or 7km, but never more) I stop immediately. I take out my earphones and stand completely still. Now I hear the branches creak and rustle, and the blackbirds sing. I listen to the distant waves, and the gravel crunch under my running shoes.  Now I can listen to my breathing, and I stay still until it returns to normal.

I feel more alive in those moments than in almost any other. I am in love with the feeling of relief and exhilaration that comes from pushing myself to do something I find so difficult.

It is these two minutes that drive me to come back to the forest to run again and again.

In all other aspects of my life, I turn away from discomfort. I’ve been doing it for so long I’ve become blind to the excuses I make to myself when I don’t want to do something difficult or frightening.

This makes it hard for me to see how I can change.

So I started with running.

Little by little, my addiction to the visceral joy that follows those 30 minutes of discomfort is beginning to send ripples throughout the rest of my life.

When I am busy, tired, cold and hungry, stepping out of the door to run is an act of sheer willpower. Now I can see that truly being myself will take exactly the same determination.

I am running, but I am not running away.