I fantasize about being one of those adorable runners. You know the ones - pink flushed cheeks, pony tail bouncing with each stride, a few beads of sweat making my skin oh-so-dewy! The reality is -- I am a mess when I run. Beat-red, flushed face, hair drenched with sweat and plastered to my forehead, no bouncing pony tail or dewy cheeks -- just one hot mess. Sometimes I worry about people seeing me run. It is risky to throw on a pair of sneakers and jog through the neighborhood. What if a student or parent sees me? That is probably why I like running early, before most people are out and about. Surprisingly, I've learned to accept and appreciate the messiness. I'm even a bit proud of it. It's a sign that I've worked hard, that my aging muscles can still do what they were designed to do. I realize, too, that running is a lot like writing. Sometimes (most times) writing is grueling and messy and risky. But every once in a while, I hit my stride, my breathing steadies, I forget about everything else, and I just go. Go with my legs or go with my words, embracing the beautiful mess of the process.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Remember -- we are free to write the worst junk in America, as long as we keep looking for ways to make it less junky :) Archives
June 2018
Categories |