So if it's been on the tip of your tongue to ask me how my 5k adventure went on Thanksgiving, you can save your breath. I got four weeks into my nine-week training program before I said, "Wow!" I hate this!" and quit.
Here's the thing. It's not just that it's hard (it is) or that it hurts (it does). Those things are true, but I can roll with that. What I wanted from it that I wasn't getting was more mental.
It turns out that when I run, I can still think, and that's a problem for me.
When I play hockey, I am not thinking about the office. I am not things about home. I'm not thinking about much of anything when there is a 200-lb guy skating right at me with a big stick, apart from the 200-lb guy and the stick, that is. In dance as well, rest of the world goes away, lost to the music and that other sort-of spiritual place that dance creates. (And how much it bloody hurts. There's that too.)
But when I run, my brain is very much aware of my whole regular world pressing in around me, in addition to how much it hurts and how much longer I have to keep doing it.
There are things I can appreciate about running. It doesn't take anything to do it but a pair of sneakers and a bit of open ground. There are no minimum number of players, it's free, and no external force can take it away from you. A dance studio can close, a game can be cancelled, but the sidewalk can be counted upon to reliably continue existing. And it is remarkable to watch yourself grow into it. If you do it regularly you will find that what was barely possible last week is totally doable this week. The initial learning curve is easy to climb.
But ultimately, when I'm running, I'm always looking towards the moment I'm permitted to stop, and my shoulders are no lighter while I'm doing it.
So, Eddie, my friend... I think we need to talk. I think we both want something out of this relationship that we know we're never going to find. I don't think we're growing as people. It's best that we part ways now before this gets messy. But I wish you well on your search. The right brains are out there, waiting for you to find them. They're just not mine.
Plus, if we keep this up I just know that I'm going to end up decapitating your undead ass with a dull rusty shovel, and neither of us want that...