Running towards the wall

I start my runs uphill.  It isn’t very obvious.  In fact when I determined the street that would end my warm up walk, I thought I was starting on an even level.  I thought it just got easier after one benchmark because I was going downhill.  But no, I am going up.  There really are very few even levels in Newton.

That first stretch is the hardest.  I don’t know if it is because I am going uphill.  Or if it is because I am still essentially warming up.  But I always figure if I can get to that one street corner and not want to give up, then the rest of my mileage isn’t going to be that difficult.

It’s .2 of a mile to that street corner.  Not very much.  But there are days when I just don’t feel like running and give up before going across the crosswalk.  Then there are days when I get to the other side, and pick up speed to get back on Com. Ave., and the high starts to trickle through my veins.  I break through the wall and find the muscle to push myself to the next benchmark.  Then at the end of three miles, I stand on my front porch stretching and taking in the cool evening air, watching the sky turn to pink and gold. 

The past two days… and even this morning have felt a lot like those first .2 of a mile.  A painful drudgery.  Something I know I have to get through so I have the muscle to make the good better.   A test to my spirit and the desire to go on. 

But then this morning I got something in my inbox that changed my attitude entirely.  A recognition and an opportunity that makes the stupid BS irrelevant.  It was like crossing the street to that next tenth of a mile and realizing I’ve got what it takes to keep running.  To keep pushing myself.  To keep improving myself.    To succeed.