Thursday, August 12, 2010

I love running. Outside.

Yesterday I went to the gym. I barely made it a mile and a half. I hate the treadmill. I've been trying to figure out why this is.

I love being outside. I like being "with nature", even though I recognize that a lot of my "nature" running in NYC is really not nature, at least not to this Minnesota girl. But it's still pretty nice to run a mile to Central Park and at least see ducks and trees and gravel. Sometimes I get so excited when I see animals that I say their names out loud. On Tuesday I actually exclaimed "Turtle!" to a little turtle guy bobbing his head in the Harlem Meer.

I hate running no where. I hate looking at the dumb TV stations they are playing at my gym with no sound. Why is "Friends" always on? I don't like exerting effort and end up with only a little digital thing telling me how far I went. I love that the island of Manhattan is only 13 miles long, and when I run 10 miles, I could have gone from Inwood to Tribeca. I love the idea of GETTING somewhere.

I hate the lack of stimulation. And I think I also hate the fact that all gyms seem to have this sense of desperation. Or trying. Not that it isn't present in the park when I run, but it's different. It's more exuberance. Maybe it's because of the turtles. Even those people who I can tell are working hard, are really excited about what they're doing. I also love going in the morning for this reason, that not only are you running, you're up earlier than most people even dare.

So I finally left the gym. I had a crappy day yesterday, too long, too many unexpected things. A run outside would have revived me, and a run inside made me bored out of my mind. And so I left.

I didn't quit.

I left.

I decided I didn't want to be there any more. That a mile was enough to try, and I wasn't in to it. So I left.

And that's not quitting. Recognizing I had a bad day, that I was tired, that I just didn't care... that's not always quitting. Sometimes it's listening to yourself.

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