I’m writing this a few days after the run I want to talk about. I have a good reason: I’m currently in Kauai on vacation with Matt and his family. We had bad Internet at the airports and other people have been using the Internet at the house to get some work done.
So, here I am at last, to write about my Tuesday run.
Tuesday was the first day we had all of our stuff in our apartment. It was the first morning I didn’t have to get up for school or had homework hanging over my head. But the forecast called for heavier rain in the afternoon so I got up at 7:30.
The first three miles of my run were nice. I ran to my old high school. But right after my lovely Garmin buzzed for mile 3, I got a bad stitch in my side. I stopped at a few stoplights, tried to breathe through it, but it took a long time for the pain to recede.
It didn’t go away completely and I had to keep my pace pretty slow not to aggravate it. I don’t want to call it a bad run but it wasn’t fun.
Here’s the thing: I never once considered stopping or cutting my run short.
There was a time when running seven miles would call for the perfect conditions because there was a time when seven miles was an insurmountable distance. There was a time when finishing seven miles with a stitch in my side would have taken every ounce of willpower I have in me. This run, while hard, did not put a single bit of strain on my will. It hurt, sure, but it was manageable. I could keep going without forcing myself, without repeating to myself with every step Hard is not impossible or One more mile or Run this mile.
I just ran. I ignored the pain. I looked at the old houses, I watched the sky darken and rain begin to fall. I tried to imagine how much it would cost to renovate one of the really old houses. I thought about what I needed to pack for Kauai. I thought about the fact that I now have two college degrees.
And I ran.