from mile to marathon

The journey of a thousand leagues begins from beneath your feet.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

open up

I ran my first full eight miles on a Saturday morning. I paced myself. I survived. I delivered the last mile and a half at the steady pace of 5 miles/hour, praying to the gods to keep me on the treadmill. They did. When I left the fitness center, I passed the outdoor pool. The morning was lovely, and I felt like plunging into the cool water, and then just lying in the sun and reading. But I had to stretch, shower, and meet the full day ahead of me. Writers meeting, writing, preparing food for the hummingbird feeder, and in the evening making dinner and then a show at the Hispanic Cultural Center – the dance duo Morena Amoora. I walked by slowly, the turquoise water reflected in my eyes.

I changed my wake-up time during the week to 5 am, and started running in the morning.

More importantly, I made my peace with running, or at least I decided to make my peace with it. I would let the impulse propel me forward, instead of questioning it. I would acquiesce, open up, give myself to it.


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