For some time, I've been searching for words to describe how I feel about running these days. As I mentioned in one of my first posts, I am a runner that fell out of love with the sport and stayed away for many years until a few months ago when I began training for this year's Chicago Marathon.
I found those words last night reading "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running" by Haruki Murakami, described by its publisher as "a beautiful memoir about the author's intertwined obsessions with running and writing." It journals his progress training for the New York City Marathon and is an interesting mix of funny and philosophical musings about life, running and writing.
For the first time in a long while, I feel content running every day in preparation for the next marathon. I've opened a new notebook, unscrewed the cap on a new bottle of ink, and am writing something new. Why I feel so generous about running now, I can't really explain systematically... maybe this is simply a matter of time passing. Maybe I just had to undergo an inevitable internal adjustment, and the period for this to happen is finally drawing to a close.
To tell the truth, I don't really understand the causes behind my runner's blues. Or why now it's beginning to fade. It's too early to explain it well. Maybe the only thing I can say about it is this: That's life. Maybe the only thing we do is accept it, without really know what's going on.