I got my ass out the door today. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only ultra runner who doesn’t run outdoors. Although, once I get my running shoes on and my running attire applied, all feels right in the world.
So today, I started slow, going back and forth on half of our long driveway (the flat half). Then, I broke free and ran down the whole way to the road.
And at the moment, where dirt and asphalt meet, did I go yonder down the road not travelled? Did I throw caution to the wind, disobeying my fear of people, snakes, and exhaustion?
I turned around and ran—walked, actually—up the driveway, back to the porch steps, fully prepared to retreat to my couch, when my feet turned around and I went back down the driveway, and back to the road.
This was a major victory for me in my days of post Bipolar Type 2 diagnosis. In the past, I only trained when I was obsessing over running. In the times I was working out, it was in a manic frenzy that often ended with an inevitable injury after only a few grueling sessions.
So will I train outdoors tomorrow? Will I even train at all? I don’t know, but I know this: I walked up and down that big ole driveway today.