Today I am so sore. Oh so sore. So so so very sore. And I like it. Being sore after my workouts means I’m working hard..committing a good amount of energy and heart into my workouts..doing it right. It means something more than just little oofs and ahhs going down the stairs!! Ayyyy baby.
Today, as I sit on the couch and sip my coffee before my day really begins, out the window I see a little old lady. She is in spandex and long socks, and she is just shuffling along, moving through the warm, summer morning air with surprising grace. This little old lady…she is living.
I don’t know her story or her age or when she started running. I don’t know how many grandkids she has or if her other half is still with her. I only know that she is living and choosing to continue to pursue her love of running. Age is just a number. The only old thing about her was her number. It gave me a little warm feeling deep in the pit of my stomach and made me long to pursue my love for running for a really long time.
There will be times when I don’t like it, think I’ve lost the fire, and quit for a while. There will be times when I’m absolutely on fire and engulfed in the desire to puff out miles on roads and trails. There will be times when I am sore and unable to walk down the stairs, and there will be surprising days after long mileage where I am not. There will be races, many of them, they keep me going. There will be joy and pain and endorphine highs. I want to take care of my body and treat it well so it serves as a method of transportation for me well into my elder years.
I’ll be the little old lady shuffling along the road with my grey ponytail bouncing and a big, old smile on my face. Maybe minus the spandex and tube socks.