Monday, February 19, 2024

Track Tales: Snow, Sweat, and a Self-Inflicted Identity Crisis

The morning sun glinted off the icy patches, turning the familiar track into a treacherous moonscape. Wednesday's run felt like a distant memory, replaced by the weekend's indulgence and the nagging doubt that crept in with each missed stride. 


But here I was, legs pumping, lungs burning, a symphony of crunching snow and ragged breaths composing my soundtrack. The discomfort was a welcome shock, a reminder that my body, like the track, craved the rhythm of movement.


Today's run was a success, time and heart rate in check. Yet, the question lingered: "Does this gap mean I'm not a serious runner?" 


But what is "serious" anyway? Is it the unwavering dedication of a marathoner, the meticulous planning of a training log devotee, or simply the act of showing up?


Maybe "serious" is too rigid, too binary. Maybe it's a spectrum, a dance between commitment and flexibility. Today, I showed up, battled the elements, and emerged stronger. Was that serious enough? Who defines what "enough" is?


Perhaps, instead of chasing some elusive label, I should focus on the feeling. The endorphin rush, the quiet satisfaction of pushing my limits, the connection to my body and the world around me. These are real, undeniable, and undeniably serious in their own right.


The "pro" runner within me might yearn for podium finishes, but the present me needs to be kinder. Progress isn't linear, and setbacks are inevitable. Today, I showed up, and that's a victory worth celebrating.


The key, I realize, isn't about turning this activity into something I "can't do without." It's about making it something I **want** to do, something that enriches my life, not defines it.


The day I unlock that door won't be marked by a specific achievement, but by a shift in perspective. It's the day I choose to run not for labels or validation, but for the pure, unadulterated joy of the journey.


So, dear journal, let this be a turning point. Not towards some nebulous "seriousness," but towards embracing the runner within, flaws and all. Because maybe, just maybe, that's serious enough.