I went out on Saturday for an angry run. I was tired, irritated by the irresponsible-ness of my kids, and aggravated by my husband who kept encouraging me to go run. Alright, let’s face it I was grumpy and for no real good reason. While the men will roll their eyes at this, I suspect that, perhaps, there was some hormonal influence on my mood and my reaction to others around me. I am fortunate that the logical part of my brain is a decent size. It was logic that told me that in this kind of mood I needed to run to work off the stress, irritation, and hormonal influences.
If this were a Hollywood blog, I’d follow-up that last paragraph with how amazing the run was. How great I felt when I got home. How lucky I was to be a runner, a barefoot runner. How I walked through the door with birds chirping on my shoulders and giving hugs and kisses to everyone in the house…
…Yeah, not so much. The run was ok. I ran two miles down to the high school track. I ran a couple of sprint laps alternating with walks before running back home. I felt ok. I guess considering the mood I was in before I started the run compared to the mediocre mood I was in when I finished running, it would be akin to starting out normal and ending with a runner’s high. It was a positive influence; it was just hard to see it at the time.
Review of the track – That was not my first time on the new high school track. However, that was the first time I’ve ever tried to run a sprint on our high school track. I am ambivalent about the high school track surface. It is rough and cushy. Even though I tried hard to keep my form, I think the cushy-ness of the track allowed me to strike improperly. The following day my tendonitis was a bit more inflamed than it usually is. The asphalt driveway leading to the high school felt like polished marble after being on that track. It’s a unique experience that I am not entirely sure I liked.
Comment on Barefooting – One of the tenants of my usual route into town was out in his yard as I passed. He said, “That’s a bit hard on the feet, isn’t it?” I yelled back, “You get used to it.” While my statement is 100% accurate, upon reflection, it isn’t the way I’d like to respond. I hope I get asked that again because next time I will respond with “No, it’s good for your feet.”
My mood brightened considerably after a glass of wine and S’mores by the fire in the evening. Ya know, life is pretty good after all.
5 barefoot miles.