I’ve been talking about it, I’ve been thinking about it, now I actually have to do it. I have to stop running.
Just for a while, maybe four weeks. To some people this would be an early Christmas present, or at least not a big deal, but not to me. I first put on my trainers with intent in 1994, ran a half- marathon in 2000 and have run 3-5 times a week ever since, barring injury.
I run on holiday. I run on Christmas Day. I run therefore I am.
Is this right? An awful lot of how I feel about myself is defined by running. How I feel about my body, about food. I sometimes think that my self-esteem is propped up only by running. As a literal example of this, when I was seeing a psychologist for a while last year I used to run to and from the sessions, and sit there sweating for 45 minutes in between.
Hmm.
It’s good to run, objectively. Running is a good thing, good for the body, the mind and the soul. However, I am not entirely made of running. Should running define me? Most people who meet me have no idea I run, I hope. Does that mean they don’t really know me? I don’t think so.
Not a Jogger 