The sun rises over the Sandias and sheds its warm morning rays onto the valley below. Outside the birds are chirping and the first sounds of the morning rush are audible but faint. As I arise from my slumber, the grogginess is intense and the temptation to return to dreamland is strong. However, the inner voice in my head prods me forward to begin my day and tackle the opportunities that will inevitably manifest themselves this day.
“OK, bitch! Get your contacts in and running shoes on! It’s time!” my mind nags. “You know you will regret it later if you don’t knock out this morning run!”
I struggle with my right eye contact. Part of the contact attaches to my pupil, the other half of the contact stubbornly clings to my index finger. The contact lens decides to pop off onto the sink counter in defiance of the tug-of-war contest being had between my eyeball and finger.
“Oh fuck!” I mumble. I delicately poke the contact with my finger to pick it up and rinse it with the contact lens solution. I finally get the lens positioned into my eye and blink at myself in the mirror a few times to clear up my vision.
My shoes sit in the closet awaiting their turn in my morning ritual. I stare at both pairs of running shoes. Do I go with my Adidas Ultraboost’s or my Asic GT-1000’s? I decide on the Adidas and slowly lace them up, knowing damn well I am procrastinating.
I walk over to the kitchen, drink some water, and meander to my office. I grab my wireless earphones and fire up one of my Spotify working out playlists and head out the door to begin my run.
They say the first mile is always the hardest. In my experience, every mile sucks, but in a weird, good kind of way. I start off slowly, one foot in front of the other, forcing myself to keep the pace moderate while my body gets used to the shock of early morning physical activity. After a few minutes, however, my pace increases on its own and the body’s natural response to adapt to activity takes hold. Eventually, every stride begins to feel more natural than the stride before it.
As I run, my mind enters a sort of meditative state. My worries, anxieties, and my to-do list all get pushed out of my mind, as it focuses on the trail ahead, maintains my breathing, and sets up my running cadence with the rhythm of the music pumping through my earphones. Before I realize it, 2 miles have gone by and I am working on a third.
Sometimes, I will pause my running to walk. I use this momentary respite from self-inflicted abuse to take in the world around me, observe the strange new bird that flew across my path onto a tree limb, or just stare out at the tremendous Albuquerque view that I take for granted all too often.
As the final stretch of my run approaches, I am always surprised to find myself a bit sad that this part of my workout is over, considering the amount of angst getting ready for this endeavor always seems to muster in the morning. I slow my pace, take a deep breath, and feel my heartbeat gradually make its way down to a normal rate. I am all too grateful that God has given me the ability to complete another workout in the great environment that Albuquerque provides. I am grateful for the time to forget about the things I have no control over. I am grateful that I have done something to help my body be healthier.
There is an old saying: “What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.” Running is an activity that fits that adage for me. Although the process is difficult, the experience leaves the physical, mental, and spiritual aspects of the human body stronger and ready for life’s challenges.
I love it.
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