We have had sun for almost two weeks straight, which must be a record for anywhere in Alaska. I am totally loving it. From inside the house, it feels as if I’m back in Arizona. Until I step outside and it’s 4 degrees, as it was this morning.
But one can always dream. And the running and the views are, as always, amazing.
I’m keeping my runs at a conservative six miles, since I’m at the very end of my novel final edits and don’t have time for anything longer. Have been supplementing with work outs at the gym in the evening, when I need to take a break from writing.
I’m also loving the spin bikes. Ohhhhh, the pain! Those standing-up-and-pushing-until-you-wanna-die segments remind me of running mountains.
Last night, as I struggled through a 45 minute session, sweat all over the bike, the floor, I’m grunting and almost praying –you get the picture, eh?–I suddenly wondered: Why do I love this? I thought about this gal’s post a couple of days ago, when she also pondered the same thing during a spin class.
It must be something about the cycling, eh?
But I also wondered the same thing as I did hill repeats the night before, my legs aching, my thighs trembling everything in my body screaming for me to STOP!
Yet I don’t stop. And I don’t know why I don’t. No one would care if I did. Most of the time I work out alone and no one would even know. Yet I struggle and sweat, grit my teeth and curse and pray.
It’s an odd thing, isn’t it, pushing oneself like that. I think that there is an type of joy to it all, and I’m not just talking endorphins. There’s something else there, something in that scary but glorious moment when you don’t give up, when you break through the pain barrier and a small part of your limitations expand.
At times, it feels almost holy.
I’m hooked on that feeling and really, when you think about it, it’s a much, much healthier obssession/addiction than, say, smoking or drinking or overeating.
Back to writing. Hope everyone is running, reading, enjoying life and pushing through whatever small limitations stand in your paths.
|Yesterday’s run, c-c-col but clear and beautiful|
Running: Thursday, 6 miles and weights; Friday, 6 miles, hills; Saturday, 6 miles and spin bike
Reading: “Harvesting the Heart,” by Jodi Picoult (sometimes I like Picoult’s stuff and sometimes I read it and then, a few days later, can barely remember what happened)