I'm so glad the little cold spell we've been having was still in effect this morning. It was windy and in the 40s when I embarked on my eight miles (six with my team, two solo to catch up on some of my mileage I lost while recuperating).
A lot of people get watery eyes when cold wind blows in their faces, making it look as if they are crying. I'm not one of those people, but hopefully anyone who glanced at my face during today's run doesn't know that, and assumed I'd just gotten some soot in my eyes. It's kind of embarrassing to admit that in truth, I wasn't teared up from eye irritation but from elation.
I'm a big sap, and very prone to waterworks. Still, I was surprised to find myself quite so choked up by the ease and the glee of my limbs moving swiftly and without pain for the first time in weeks--maybe even months. (When I look back on it now, I think I've been run-down since late October, although I didn't start to lose the joy of running until late November.)
I finally remembered why I'd gotten myself into the serious business of setting the alarm for 4:30 a.m. to run when the rest of the world is sleeping; why I'd braved burst blisters, pouring rain, pounding heat, wardrobe malfunctions, iPhone and earphone malfuctions, sore muscles, runner's knee, runner's stomach, and all the rest of it.
It's because I love running. In the absence of injury or exhaustion, it truly is one of my greatest pleasures.
I'm just so happy to be back.
Now please, pass the Kleenex.
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