Towards the end of my drinking, running and exercise had lost a big chunk of their joy. I began using them as punishment. When I was drinking, running and yoga became a way to sweat out my booze. A way to justify the extra calories I was consuming. A way to prove to myself that I was still in control. I had to pay my penance in the form of sweat.
When I quit drinking, I thought I would be running marathons, my times would be off my personal charts, I would be floating on each run but the reality was now, almost 500 days later, I’m just getting my running mojo back. I’m finally feeling that craving to get out and just be free. BUT I’m slower now. These last not quite 500 days, I’ve had to adjust from punishment to pleasure and part of that was taking time to listen to what I wanted. I skipped runs, I did yoga instead, I did nothing instead, I ran shorter distances, I ran however fast I felt like.
I think everyone should run, I just do, but I had to adjust and give my poor toxic body a break. I had to run to heal and that looks very different than running to hurt.
There is truth to sweating out your toxins. But my toxins are no longer of the rocket fuel variety. Now they are a yuck conversation, a problem that I need to sweat to let it work it’s self out, some insecurities thrown in there and a jumbled head space that needs the pavement to get straight.
It is freeing to be running through my problems and not away. To exercise my demons, not unsuccessfully attempt to silence them.