Short stories from long runs

This blog about my run and training

I know I haven’t posted much lately, but I’m still here, doing my thing.

You, too, have probably been freezing cold and are probably sick of winter, except for those of you in the teeny-tiny percentage of the country with temps even remotely around or above 32 degrees. And my in-laws. It’s probably scorching hot in India, which seems like a pretty awesome alternative right about now. February is rough, man.

So, I just haven’t had too many original thoughts to share: I have a very cool new job where I’m starting to find my footing and strike out on my own. Acupuncture continues to amaze and confuse me. (HOW does it work?) I’m running a bit, a few days a week and easily, just trying to maintain some fitness until New England thaws a little, or at least stops freezing more.

Do I sound grey? I think this sounds grey. Meh. Blue. Wintertime. Deep into the tunnel, but no light at the end just yet.

On my run last night, I thought about how the winter feels a bit like a treadmill. It’s routine in a way the rest of the year manages to defy. Even when I cover the same loops, repetitiously, in spring and summer and fall, they feel unique. On the treadmill, it’s the same thing on a different day. Same manual plug-in and go, different ponytail and back of a t-shirt to stare at for an hour. Certainly, it feels like you’re running in place, no end in sight.

But, then, there’s this little line at the bottom of Yeah Dave’s emails that pop up from time-to-time.

Find your inner Hawaii.
Create the getaway. Get warm in your muscles, your mind, your soul. Stretch the heck out and relax. Ah, yes. Back to the mat. I haven’t found a yoga home on the South Shore since changing jobs. I’ve gone to one a handful of times and it’s… fine. I want it to work, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve landed in the right place yet. But, then, I can find my inner Hawaii on the mat in my bedroom or family room, in meditation or movement, anywhere and anytime I want.

Tonight, I’m going to Hawaii. Or maybe Hawaii isn’t the place for me, but Bermuda, Goa, the South of France. I’m booking a round-trip ticket… of course I’ll want to come home, but just long enough for a winter escape. An hour or two should do.