Julie Lyles Carr: Pure Love

Monday, June 13, 2011

Pure Love

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There are those things in my life that I love at the beginning.
The first adrenaline of cleaning out a closet.

The heady resolutions to eat healthier.

The new hobby, replete with all the accouterments and trappings.

The blistering romance of a fresh decorating project.

New beginnings, fresh starts, early days.

But, unfortunately, that anticipative rush ultimately ends. And I'm left with a half-emptied disheveled closet, a pantry full of odd organics, a hobby neglected and a decorating palate straddling Early Marriage Rattan and Last House's Monster Sectional.

So here's why I respect running.

It's the exact opposite.

It starts miserable. And then builds to deep love.

Right now, I'm still back at miserable.

After breaking my foot a couple of months ago schlepping a suitcase full of research material and ultimately dropping it onto the arch of my foot, I had to take a break from running. My running schedule was already much abbreviated from last fall's half-marathon training.

That fractured metatarsal brought it to a standstill.

I started running again a couple of weeks ago. And it's miserable.

Really miserable. It's shocking to realize how quickly all that training can make an exit.

My amazing sister~neighbor/running partner JT and I have been working a new training schedule, loading up kids in jogging strollers and running timed splits and hills and distance. And I have been whining.

After a particular unlovely run last week, I turned to JT and asked, "Do we even LIKE running?"

But I already knew the answer.

I love it. I love it because of its innate purity. To be a runner means I have to run. Consistently. I can't have a fling with it. I have to make a commitment. And running won't let me get away with a passing fascination to be replaced by the next shiny thing. It has to be a long romance.

Or nothing at all.

I'm ready to get to back to the place where I love running, where I feel strong and empowered, relaxed and endorphin-charged.

As opposed to sticky, gasping, nauseous.

But for now, I can love hating it, love hating what it requires, love hating how it makes me realize that I had to fight for my training and my goals.

And I'm admiring again the life lesson of enduring the formidable to find the reward.

Even when it makes me a little queasy.

And whiny.
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