Mojo

I've always loved rainy days--there's something so lovely about hunkering down indoors with hot tea and a cozy blanket and a good book.

Then I became a runner.

I was spoiled this winter, as November and December passed us by with hardly a cloud, and the unseasonably warm temps in the 60s graced each day that I went outside to pound the pavement. This continued through January and much of February, punctuated with a day or two here, a day or two there of half-hearted storming. As I found my running mojo, I was able to rely on Mother Nature to allow me to run outside, instead of forcing me into the gym and the dreaded treadmill.

Then came March. 

We finally got some much-needed rain, and honestly, I don't mind it. However, as I walked into the gym on my non-training days, I was so against getting on that treadmill. M. the Reasonable helped me find suitable alternatives, so for the last two weeks, I've run outside a grand total of maybe three times.

With my recent career and financial stress, this just won't do.

Twenty minutes on the rower does not make up for two-and-a-half miles of pounding the pavement, breathing the cold, fresh air into my lungs and feeling my feet connect with the ground before rebounding and propelling me forward.

When did I start to like this?

And what's with that stupid grin on my face each day when I hit my stride?

Anyway, with all of this rain and indoor cardio and career and financial stress, my running has suffered. My official 5K time for the Shamrock last weekend was a dismally slow 38:46. I walked more than I would have liked, and felt tired and sluggish (that can be attributed to career stress and a lack of sleep the night before).

Today, finally, I had a chance to set off on the mean streets of my neighborhood for a run. It wasn't sunny out, but the clouds weren't threatening rain and the wind was low. I wore long sleeves and strapped on my Mizunos. After my normal walking warm-up, I set the stopwatch on my iPod and started off at a reasonable pace, thinking it might be silly to time myself today.

Surely I'm not going to set a great time today, right?

The run was pretty easy-going. No pain, no discomfort. My legs felt good, my breathing was steady. I was so happy to be out there running that I stopped caring about my time--fast or slow--and just enjoyed pushing myself through my normal two-and-a-half-mile route.

I ran the whole way today--no walking--and as I neared the end, I switched my iPod screen view from "Now Playing" to stopwatch. As I came to the big light pole that I use as a finish line, I glanced down at the time.

28:28.

Hey...that's...that's good!

It wasn't 'til I got home and checked my records that I realized this was actually a new personal best, by ten seconds. Not bad at all, if I do say so myself!

After the stress and craziness of the last few weeks, it's hard to put into words how incredible it felt to get out there and just run. I can't believe that a few short years ago, I wasn't a runner, that I didn't know the joy of watching my worries eat my dust.

There's nothing like it in the world.