I ran for the first time since the summer of 2010.
Haven't felt like this in quite a while. The shortness of breath, the throbbing of ankles, the dripping sweat--somehow, despite how terrible it sounds, it actually feels kind of good. Few things can force a man to confront himself, but one of them is definitely running.
It's easy to go through the day and think, "I should probably run," but the task in our mind is more daunting than it really is, so we just forget about it and say, "Nah, maybe next time." I guess this what separates the sporty from the lazy.
The first run is always the hardest. The body's out of shape, there's all sorts of knots and useless fibers in our muscles, so the first run is a cleansing run. The body must be purified of all redundant threads. It's not a particularly pleasant experience since it leaves you sore and aching for days, but it is a necessary one.
It's a constant battle within myself. I have to force myself to keep on running. I throw self-encouragements and draw from my competitive gamer spirit. The mind is willing, but the body is barely capable. It's only when you're gasping for dear life do you gain a little perspective.
Physical exertion is, after all, life's greatest metaphor.
