I read an interesting post today by Katie at katieRUNSthis about what it means to love a runner. Now this being only my SECOND post in my new blog, I didn’t really think that I wanted to look to others for post inspiration this early because lord knows I have enough to say, but this one sparked me. I really think that it is worth a read by those of you who love to run (and probably by those that love you).
Fortuitiously, this crossed my mind this morning as I slipped out of bed at the god awful early hour of 5:30am this morning to log those miles. I am SO TIRED OF RUNNING IN THE PITCH BLACK! Wednesdays are “my days” in the house to run alone. They’re also my longer-ish weekday runs so I leave the poochers at home and head out on my own. No dogs, no music, just me and the empty (dark) road.
Of course my dogs are devastated on Wednesdays. They look so sad.
So back to what this all means. I LOVE to run. For so many reasons. It’s “me” time to lose my focus, it’s an adventure, the accomplishment, the discipline, the great days and runners highs, the camaraderie with other psychopath runners, the eggandcheese bagel after, the SHOES (oh do i love shoes), the races, and the pretty amazing things you see when you’re running (or walking) through life.
I also love to be loved. Particularly by the Mister (because I think the dogs love me no matter how disappointing Wednesdays are). If the obsession is not managed properly, it can get in the way of us. And let’s be honest, the times this is likely to happen are when I don’t get my run in because I am a grumpy, edgy, mental mess. This requires super early mornings while he’s slumbering (read snoring), finding ways for us to be active together on non-running days (so my obsession does not appear so obsessive and exclusive), sometimes staying up and out a little later than I’d like (probably with one too many cocktail), and most importantly supporting his obsession – CARS – with all the love and sincere enthusiasm that he sends my way each day.