There have been times where I argued with myself about whether I really loved running.
There have been times where I could not convince myself that it was love, in the same way that soaking in a hot tub was love for an activity, or getting a massage, or sex. I do not love running like I love any of those things.
There was a time recently where I didn’t want to run anymore.
I was done – that time.
But I’m learning and my understanding is growing and I’m realizing that what I miss most about running is the thing I hate most about running – I miss being able to suffer and then, as pertains to life, to lean.. in.
I miss being at the boundary – the frontier of my abilities – that crystalline edge of possibility.
I miss getting another chance to not feel sorry for myself but instead, trying again.