I learned/realized a long time ago I'm not a good runner. A 7:4ish mile mid 5k won't change the world and 9:16 mile mid-half won't either. I did it to prove I could. An overweight, asthmatic, could work toward and conquer what they thought they never could. Ironically, along the way I found many sympathetic friends and a ridiculous amount of running knowledge.
I told my friend the other week I quit. No more running. No mas. I wasn't totally truthful. Since the bug hit me, I can't give it up. I found peace putting one foot in front of the other.
That said, I've gotten back to lifting, my first and most enduring passion. I feel good. I feel fulfilled...at least in one aspect. So you wanna hit a slow few miles holla, but in the meantime I'll be grunting with the basement weights.
Friday, July 4, 2014
I guess there was hope. There wasn't much of anything. An idea? Maybe. Could this be the truth that we were aiming for? Could be lots of things, I suppose, if we played our cards just right. Bluff and retreat. I saw her eyes betray her intentions. That beautiful mouth bent around empty words. Hidden truths. Here is what I'm willing to give. Baby steps of a broken forever. Again and again. One should know better at this point, but one can't help but to hope. Contentment is a foul and contemptuous mistress. A line crossed.