Whether the glass is half-full or half-empty, I don’t know, but it needs to be topped off.” Words of Wisdom from an Irish Taxi Driver
Sunday morning, I was dreading my long run. I was visiting Cork, Ireland for the weekend, and while my friends went to visit a small fishing town, I decided to take a day off from touring to run. Honestly, I was pretty bummed. I was on a mini-break (Bridget Jones anyone?), and I was opting to spend my morning running 10 miles. I was not thrilled, but after breakfast, I bid them goodbye, waited a while for my food to digest, and dutifully laced up my running shoes and got out the door.
The first couple of miles were painful. I could barely maintain a reasonable pace, my calves were burning, and my ankles were sore, but unfortunately, I was more than aware that I was capable of finishing the run despite those annoying, yet minor aches and pains. As I continued to run alongside the River Lee, the pain in my legs became a little less pronounced, and I finally settled into a comfortable pace. Soon, I found myself on a scenic nature path: on my left, there was a gorgeous river with waterfalls and moss covered rocks, and on my right, I could see the buildings of Cork rising on hills in the distance. So I just ran and soaked up the glorious sunshine and embraced the euphoria of running. Eventually, I weaved back through the city center running back and forth across pedestrian bridges, by churches and Cathedrals, past vegetarian food stores (go Ireland!), and past stores readying themselves for Sunday shoppers.
When I finally stopped running, I was tired as hell, my calves were sore, and I was cursing myself for running without water, but I honestly could’t have thought of a better way to spend my morning. I finished proud and totally elated. Since I started law school, I haven’t really enjoyed running. It is a lot easier for me to remember that running isn’t fun. It can be physically uncomfortable. It takes away the serenity of a lazy Sunday morning. To my dismay, it forces me to curb my drinking on Saturday night. But, running makes me feel good – plain and simple. It makes me feel accomplished. It makes me appreciate my body for its strength. It makes me realize that – as long as I can put one foot in front of the other – things are going to be okay. Because running is about so much more than running, it is a way for me to temporarily escape reality and be forced to take a deep breathe. Running is something that I can do something for myself, and it has been entirely too long since I have spent a Sunday pounding pavement and a Monday complaining about walking down stairs.
P.S. This weekend I kissed the Blarney Stone, and I expect that the entirety of my future blogging endevours will be more eloquent.