How ironic that, as we prepare for our own race, I have little time to run myself. I must confess. For the past few days, I’ve been an angry biatch. Every little thing annoys me—from the over sensitive supplier who can be the next teleserye star to the chipped nail on my index finger. I blame it on stress. I blame it on PMS. I blame it on inefficient people who you wish gave 100% effort even just 90% of the time. But, I put the blame most on running.
I haven’t run for way too long. Uhm, to be exact, it’s been 4 days. (Hey, this is my blog. I can exaggerate here, right?)
Today, I woke up feeling great. And, I thought I could spare an hour to run despite the crazy, busy sched. I still haven’t found the perfect shoe for my bunions, so I opted for the widest shoe in the house: My Nike Frees.
I ran a quick 7k on the treadmill at the gym. All of you know that I’m treadmill-averse. But, on this particular day, I missed running so much that I absolutely loved it. Loved the fact that I was, in my mind, racing with the other 4 slowpokes to my right. (I am anonymous in the gym so they won’t know who they are and I’m not hurting anyone’s feelings!) And, guess what, I won! Hah! Loved the sweat dripping down my face. I swam last Sunday and chlorinated-water dripping down my face while I’m catching my breath just doesn’t cut it for me. And, I loved the fact that I found 1 hour just to do what I loved the most.
Now, I’m a happy camper. I’m all smiles. If I saw that dramatic supplier, I’d give him a hug and treat him to lunch. (Okay, maybe not THAT happy.)
Aaah, running. I’m crazy while I’m with you. But, crazier without you.