Therapy

It makes my heart hurt that everyone doesn't love running. Running makes the world seem right.

Case in point: I got angry today. My body's first response to anger: Run. Just go run. This is also my body's first response to sadness, anxiety, fear, self-discriminatory thoughts, etc. Feeling stressed? Just go run. Life in the dumps? Seriously, with the running. I actually don't know how other people deal with these stressors. . . . Do they eat junk food? Watch TV? Go shopping? Read a book? Punch a baby? No really, I want you to tell me what you do, because I have it all figured out, and I'm baffled that it's not a panacea. 

My therapy-session runs are different, too: sometimes what works best is to run without my watch, sometimes I have to run without music, sometimes I have to run with soothing music, sometimes I have to go fast, sometimes nice and slow, sometimes I have to run when it rains (Okay, this is a lie. I always have to run when it rains. Best running weather ever.)

I truly believe we are born to run. We come equipped for it more than for any other sport; we don't need a ball or net or helmet. Sometimes I wonder what it will feel like to run in the afterlife when our spirits have perfect, resurrected bodies. I imagine I will have a beautiful stride, that my lungs never feel like they're working hard, that my legs feel as fresh at the end of a thousand-mile run as they did at the starting line . . . but I always imagine I will be running in the rain, because hey, you can't beat that. Unfortunately today, I had to run in the crummy 65-degree January weather.

Woe am I.

(Well I'll be darned, even writing about running has made me feel better!)