I’m a runner. I’m a sort of runner. I’m a runner-walker. Well, I was.
Then I got pregnant. With twins.
Now I’m not a runner. Not even sort of a runner. I can barely walk let alone run. So I’m not.
Granted, in my ‘running days’ I was slower than a herd of tortoises trudging through peanut butter, but I loved it. I loved the release that running gave me. I loved my sore calves, my tight thighs, and my heart pounding in my ears. I loved the sweat on my brow, and the feeling of peace when alone.
That is honestly what I miss the most right now. I don’t miss coffee; if I feel like a cup I have a cup. I don’t miss alcohol, but I’m not a big drinker anyway. I don’t miss partying as I stopped my partying ways years ago. I miss running.
Yes, I’ll get back into it and believe me, I will! But with all of the stress that I’ve been under (finances, car etc) I would just absolutely love to go out for a run. At the moment I can barely walk 10m without getting out of breath, so even a 1km run is a no-no.
It seems what I miss the most, is also keeping me sane these days.
Because the thought of my takkies hitting the tarmac again?
*shivers & goosebumps*