November 14th 2018
Today I finally started running again and, let me tell you, it felt fucking fantastic. If you’ll allow me to overly romanticise it, I’d forgotten how radiant a good run makes you feel. Usually, I only get that satisfactory feeling after a run, but today I felt it start to finish.
When lunchtime came I leapt down the stairs to get changed, and bounded out of the office with a literal spring in my literal step. I sprinted down the road with far too much enthusiasm to meet my mate. My enthusiasm was apparently not infectious, as he really wasn’t fancying the run. Nevertheless, we continued, and — as I later discovered — we continued at some pace.
It didn’t feel like it, but we’d somehow ran at an average pace of 5 min/km which is, like, 10% faster than I’d normally run. I was just so darn excited, it seems.
Honestly, I have no idea why today felt different. But it had been a long time coming. Maybe that’s why it felt different. Either way, I’m excited for tomorrow lunchtime when I get to go out again.
Until tomorrow, get to, not have to.