Running Home

I never thought I'd be interested in a sport. I guess running isn't a sport, per se. Anyway, I have a drawer full of running gear, I have three different pairs of running shoes, I now read running articles and magazines, and I would rather be on a nice long run than just about anything else.
So what happened?
It's just wonderful to feel yourself strong and in your body. It's fun to run like you used to when you were a kid. There's no team work involved, so you don't have to relate to anyone except yourself. It's fun to sweat, and it's fun to achieve something in a half hour that you didn't think you could do. It's even fun to come home after a not-so-great run and feel a sense of satisfaction that at least you went out and did it.

Another weirder thing, for me. When I'm out running it's the only time I feel normal. I rarely feel at home in my skin. From being a white colonial baby in Africa cared for by my Ayah, to suddenly moving to oil country (Alberta) when a toddler, and being the only weirdo in school... and becoming a wanderer... whatever, I felt like an outsider much of my life and sometimes that is even outside myself. Which yes is also weird.

But when I'm running? I'm here and now! I'm free again - running in the Rockies, or anywhere. Just running for the hell of it. Ya, so get shoes, clothing, gloves whatever a hat if its cold, and just step out... and run...

Of course there are problems, life is suffering after all. Don't go out alone on a rural road if you're a woman. Don't run after dark in an isolated area if you're a woman. And all that. Even today, some asshole yelled after me ... actually he yelled AT me while I ran past. I turned back around and came up to face him again... he looked down at the ground. Didn't want to deal with a mean-ass bad-ass 62 year old like yours truly.

I'll have run 1000 kilometres in 2018. I'm hoping to crunch a half marathon in February and a full in May.
So grateful that I can.