Monday, Monday

I started jogging again today. I actually run somewhat regularly, but have not for a while, since where I live it has been rather cold out. The weather today was glorious, if windy. i started out the run with two colleagues from work, but they quickly left me behind. I may run slow, but I never quit.

The wind was at my back when we started. The trail runs along the river, and there are always ducks in the river. I like to run there. It is rather pleasant, as pleasant as it can be with my lungs wanting to climb out of my chest. The ducks quietly quacked as I ran by, maintaining their position in the river. This was the easy part.

The hard part came when I turned around. Facing the wind is not only a physical barrier with me, but it is also a psychological one. My legs were leaden; the wind made my eyes water and tears streamed down my cheeks. "Really," I told my buddies, "I'm not crying." But I pushed on. And on. And on.

I have learned not to hate running, but not by much. I do it to stay fit, and because the Army says I have to. Personally, I think learning to run breeds cowardice. The British conquered most of the known world in their heyday without a recognizable Physical Training regimen. Of course they also walked everywhere they went, and stood in lines to let the enemy shoot at them. Cowardice to them was flinching when a musket ball came too close. Whatever. I guess the trade-off is worth it, right? I keep telling myself that.

I also told myself that I will try for the Freedom Festival 10K again this year. I have done it a couple of times in the past, and always cherished the tee-shirt I got. I had to: it was all I got, except aches and pains. I never even came close to placing high enough to get any medals or recognition. But I might one day actually enjoy running if I keep it up. Right?

Right.

Maybe.