For some reason I do my best writing while I'm running. Well, my best thinking about writing when I'm running. Or driving. Or in the shower. Or anywhere but at a computer or notebook.
But mostly running.
I don't know if this is a discipline thing--that I haven't forced myself to sit down enough so that the words just flow when I want them, and only come at inconvenient times? And maybe something about the rhythm (it took me three tries to spell that word. I will learn how it's spelled one of these days!) of my feet hitting the pavement, my breath (or wheezing, depending on the point in the run).
I'm not a great runner. I'm not even a good runner. I stop frequently, walk a lot of it, and really have to force myself into it most night that I manage to actually get out there. After I finished a run one time, I described how I was feeling to a friend as, "I've never before felt so great and so terrible at the same time." This, ladies and gentlemen, is what I'm forcing myself into for the sake of my health and mental sanity. I'm trying to convince myself that there's something cathartic about hitting the pavement, something poetic about going running to 'deal with issues' and always ending up home, back in the same place.
Mostly I just feel tendinitis.
But this is my journey. In miles.
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