02/01/11 Running

I have a past as a runner.

Not "professional" in any way; I participated in the annual local half marathon for a few years, and for a while I actually trained to become faster, but it was primarily about getting exercise and enjoying nature.

And I did enjoy it.

When I was approximately 17 years old, Saturday was my favorite day of the week.
Not because I got to meet friends and go to great parties - no, it was a long distance run that was the highlight of the week.

Every Saturday morning, rain or shine, I put on my dear running shoes, took my dear mp3-player and headed out for those 20 kms.

It was torture sometimes.

There were days when I was blinded by snowstorms and sharp snowflakes tearing my skin.

I had a special pair of shoes that I would wear when the roads were slippy; for some reason they were very "sharp" inside and gave me terrible blisters on my feet which made me unable to run (and partly even to walk)for several weeks.

Sometimes I was weaker than others and thought I would actually collapse while running up the great hill above the viaduct along the circular road.

There were even times when I feared being killed by the odd dangerous-looking dog!

But, despite all this, there was always a very positive feeling in the end.
This 20 km run made me calm and happy, and it also boosted my (slightly faltering)self-confidence in a particular way.

My post-running thoughts were along the lines of "I might be bad at basically all other sports, but damn, I'm good at running!".
Or the wider-perspective version: "I may be shy, grumpy and crap at maths, but at least I can run 20 km!"

But as I started my last year of high school my running trips became shorter and less frequent. And when I moved abroad to go to university they became even less frequent, until they finally ceased to take place.

Other interests were taking over. And running in a big city is difficult, at least when you're used to forests and empty roads.

Still, when I come back to Jakobstad, my previous interest experiences a revival.
Perhaps it's because I connect this place so much to my old life, interests and way of being that I feel it almost an obligation to start running again once I get back. A good obligation. I remember that I actually used to enjoy it for many years.
And of course it's the aspect of memories. Those old roads where I used to run back in the day etc...

I went running with my mum (still a keen runner) today. There wasn't a snowstorm, but there was an icy wind and many of the roads were not ploughed yet after the heavy snowfall last night.
We did 10 km.

And afterwards I experienced that same old feeling of post-running invincibility, which makes me promise myself never to give up this fantastic, healthy hobby again.

But nowadays, achieving that feeling, my thoughts don't go along the same lines as back then.

Instead of "I'm anti-social and terribly bad at maths but at least I can run", my thoughts are leaning towards "I'm actually not that bad (and I don't need to do maths anymore!!) and on top of it all, I can run".

The Saturday mornings of 20 kms are events of the past, though. At least for the time being.