Running: Simply For The Joy of It
By: Jennifer Mcdougall
Tags: Goal Setting, Joy, Running, Inspirational, Happiness

Image by Hulki Okan Tabak on unsplash

This morning, three days post-marathon, my body woke up at its usual 5:00 am time. Normally this would be when my running partner texted “up and at ‘em!” to which I would groggily respond “argggg”.

I don’t have to run today, my brain told my leg muscles — who had only recently off-loaded enough lactic acid to drown a baby crocodile. I don’t actually have to run…

But then something odd happened…something I hadn’t experienced in the half-a-decade in which I had gotten back into chasing running goals.

I wanted to run just simply because I wanted to run…

Hurdling the cat to avoid tripping as I left the house my head anxiously canvassed my heart: Where are we going? How far are we running? What is our route? What pace should/would/will I go?

My heart responded: I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.

I left the house with no destination. I will run as far and as long and as fast as I want. Within reason, of course: I needed to be home in 45 minutes to start readying myself for work.

I will listen to my body.

Easier said, as is often the case, than done. Immediately my head started planning routes, off-cuts, and, after a mere block, shrieked down my spine to my toes “I don’t feel like this anymore, let’s just turn back.”

I’m sure the blowing leaves, as shocked as I was about 20-degree weather in November, were scuttling across the road quicker than I was. Eventually, my pace plateaued, my breathing stabilized into my usual two-huffs-in-three-puffs-out rhythm, and my head emptied.

Ah. Ahhhhhh. This is why I love running.

The scritching sound of someone’s dog claws cutting into the gravelly edges of the sidewalk as they amble with it for its morning pee. The cloud-covered sky allowing one star to peek through. The breeze slight enough to whisk sweat from my bloated cheeks. The…holy crap…what WAS that? A raccoon or something bound back under the fence, startling my heart into double time.

No music, no voices (except the odd “good morning” hurtled between me and the dog walkers). Just me, the legs I imagined looked like slow-moving gears finding their groove, my body moving in ways that felt natural and flowing, the quiet morning, the odd thought poking its way out of hiding before delving back into the too-early-for-this-crap cranial underground.

Occasionally my head would say “let’s stop” or “let’s do 5 km today” or “one more block” and my body would respond accordingly: “no, I want to keep going”, “I’ll do what I do”, “I want to turn here”.

As I turned the block and neared my house my body wanted to carry on. I careened into the track area across from my front door and was halfway around when I decided it really was time to end my run. Looking at my Garmin, though, the number of 2.44 shouted “not enough” and “how can you leave me under an exact km amount?” For a moment I considered carrying on until the 3 km mark.

Nope, my body gently and gracefully whispered. It’s okay to stop. It’s time to stop.

Halting under the halo of a street light, I clicked my watch’s end button and the screen advertised a mere 2.58 km.

It’s okay. Did you enjoy this run?

It’s OKAY.

When is the last time you did something just because you wanted to? Just for the pure pleasure of it? Just for the simple and exquisite joy of it?

When is the last time you realized: I wanted to run just simply because I wanted to run?