To Run or not to Run? Depends on the Warrior.

Days 10-14?             Boston.                   Texas.                    Breathe.
      One thing I am quickly learning to appreciate about running is the quality alone time that so rarely happens in my life.  Time to contemplate and hash out the news and stresses of the week with wonderful, uninterrupted trains of thought.  The week’s events forced a reflection on humanity and why bother to run at all.  Every time there is a Boston, or a Texas, or a Newtown, or an Aurora, I am reminded how deranged and scary this world can be, and of the fragility of life.  The temptation is to withdraw and never do anything public. Terrorism and tragedy poke fun at the pastimes and ordinary daily activities I take for granted.  What an absurdity running and other sports must be to the people of so many other nations faced with the daily insecurities of food, peace, and shelter, and where death and the threat of violence is never far removed.  I am so grateful that this nation still views the pursuit of happiness my unalienable right, along with life and liberty.  My existence has been blessed with a sense of security and entitlement to these freedoms, and I have had the luxury of being able to enjoy nature and to partake in activities designed to entertain and feed the spirit.  Why bother to run? My inner warrior kicks in and proclaims that I want and deserve to take advantage of every opportunity and every joy this body will allow while on this planet. I want to see if I can.
      As I contemplated the meaning of life on the treadmill this week, because we had finally received the foot of snow predicted last week and anything outside was off limits, I cranked out another 3 miles on Tuesday and 2.5 miles on Thursday.  My times seemed less relevant with the recent tragedies heavy on the mind.  Happy just to be able to trot along, wet or dry, and to be able to retrieve my daughter from daycare when I was through.  When I came home from the gym on Tuesday, a package was waiting for me.  My in laws sent me tissues and Depends.  It was inevitable.  Undoubtedly, my siblings and parents will collectively applaud and salute them for this well played gesture.  Sadly, I was more offended by the XL on the tag than by the Depends.  Not about to let them break me, I tried them on over my workout clothes.  Crinkly, yet light and airy.  Their bulk would prohibit their use as an undergarment for sure, but I can’t deny some potential as an exterior shell of sorts.  The papery light fabric breathes easily for maximal ventilation, and they are waterproof.  They offer far more security than the typical loose nylon short-shorts that I’ve never understood why runners wear, without the risk of accidental exposure of one’s nether region  to unsuspecting observers while stretching or during a stumble.  I performed some complicated stretches for my entertained family while my husband captured the future bribe material with our camera.  I resisted the mild temptation to show off my latest sports fashion statement around the neighborhood (…there was the snow, remember?).  Besides, I don’t have nearly the reader base for that level of craziness, though I am vaguely aware of the “shares” multiplying as I type. Instead, I booked the appointment with my doctor, with whom I thankfully don’t have to discuss the matter for another 3 weeks.  And, in a Friday happy hour fueled preemptive strike against any future bribes, decided to post my photos here.  Here’s to a better week ahead, Cheers!

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