three miles

Running. It’s been months since I’ve ran and I miss it.

I’ve always hated the first three miles of every run.   The uneven pace.  The labored breath.  The voices in my head that just won’t shut up.  Conversations that I’m now forced to have with myself as my feet find their path.

The pace doesn’t matter.  I could be plodding along at a recovery pace or attempting to PR a 5K.  My mind rages for three miles before it quiets.  Checklists for work.  Checklists for home.  People to see.  Things to do.  Things I should have done.  How to make things better.  What to make for dinner.  Should I go back to school?  Am I gaining weight? What color should I dye my hair? Should I learn another language? What time did I fall asleep last night?  Did I ever call my mom back?

And finally, silence.  Three miles.  The conversation stops and clarity sets it.  My breathing settles.  My feet find their stride and time becomes irrelevant.  The distance that follows doesn’t matter.  Silence is my friend.  I forget I’m running until I stop.

Oh, how I miss the quiet.

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