Some days

Some days there are just a lot of reasons not to run. The house needs cleaning. Don’t I deserve a break? I haven’t eaten / I’ve eaten too much. My watch isn’t charged. It’s cold / wet / rainy. I JUST DONT FEEL LIKE IT.
(Insert gratuitous lazy cat pic here – wait, I just happen to have one.)

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Many days I let those thoughts win.
Other days, though, I find my shoes.

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And I go out into the slippery, wet, cold grey-brown January morning.

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And I listen to the wind sweep over the hills, and feel the damp in my face. I take deep breaths of pine-needle scented air. I don’t worry how fast or how far I go. There are tracks on the path to follow; I watch where I set my feet down. There are birds in the brush. I am happy to be in my body and in my head and on that path. I can feel energy flow through me with every cold inhalation, blowing away cobwebs and turning weakness to strength, reluctance to determination, lethargy to joy, in a strange alchemy.

And this is how I feel, some days.

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