The Morning Run

I love running.  That is not a sentence I ever though I would write. I started running last year in my late 40s.  I was overweight and I have asthma – neither are indicators of a good runner.  But both were the reasons to start running.  My breathing was getting worse, so some cardio vascular exercise was needed.  I was keen to make sure I build some muscle tone as I lost weight.  Weight loss is about eating the right things, but exercise helps the muscles to increase as the fat decreases.  Running was, frankly, cheap and convenient, but I hated every single run of the couch to 5k programme I followed.  Every single one.

Still I persevered and just kept running three times a week for something between 20 and 30 minutes. One day I was in Plymouth on one of my regular visits and I ran along the sea front.  And about 5 minutes in I thought “I love this”.   That was it – my turning point, I remember it so very distinctly.

Today I am once again in Plymouth.  Thanks to a warm night and a neighbouring seagull family who decided to start their morning routine at 4am, I woke up tired and bleary-eyed, but very quickly the thought that I had a run to look forward to popped into my head.  And tiredness was put aside.

In fact, I interrupted writing this to go for the run, it felt weird to be writing about running when I really just wanted to be running.

I don’t love every run, but it’s a good life lesson.  We can’t love everything we do, sometimes we just have to carry on and do it.  But this morning was a great run – one too many hills at the end, but you know what, it just felt all the more satisfying. This is a run that also ends with a treat of coffee staring out to sea.   Perfect.

A perfect run?  Who would have thought I would ever write that?

 

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