I stare at my shoes, both pairs that I bought this summer in the States, and I feel sorry for them.
My trail shoes are lightly covered in mud from my last run, a 3 1/2 hour jaunt back in September through the fields and trails between the village on the hill and the ruins of a chateau about 8 kilometers from here. Since that day, they sit next to the front door, waiting.
My road shoes went with me when I went to Paris. I had loved the idea of running along the Seine or through the Jardin du Tuileries. But in the end, they only served to confirm my 'Americanness' as I walked around the city after my classes.
I can't run.
And I'd be lying if I said I missed it.
How that scares me.
Here was something I did as a constant, something that I depended on to clear my head and keep me sane, and now...
I can't run.
Someone once asked me, "what are you running from?" I laughed and tried to explain.
But now, I'm wondering exactly that.
What was I running from?
6 comments:
Obesity and insanity. Come run with me.
Maybe you need to run with someone.
Put one foot in front of the other and remember, This is something you have Always enjoyed.
The best advice may perhaps be the simplest...just be. Just be Karen...
leave the shoes right where they are because when the spirit moves you, you'll want to have them where you can get them.
Love ya!
Should the question be 'What are you running to?' not from?
You'll use those shoes when you're good and ready to. XOXOXO
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