The Second Run

I'm not sure I fully understood the power of a good running mix until this morning. Sure, I've always preferred to listen to music while working out, but today, the music was what pushed me. I have a "Workout" mix on my iPod, along with my "in class" mix, my "feel good" mix, and my "breakup" mix (hmm....meant to take that off a while ago...). My workout mix is anything with a beat that makes me want to pound the pavement (treadmill, it's -40 here today with the windchill) or get up and MOVE. It's songs that inspire me to push and push harder. It's songs that remind me of people and times that I want to reclaim, or people and times that I'm better because I got rid of. I go from Shania Twain to Britney Spears to "Standing Outside the Fire" to anything quick by Glee. Heck, I have Darren Criss' "No Way" on there. My feet pound out a rhythm: Ash-LY. Ash-LY. It reminds me why I'm busting my butt on this machine when I could doing...well...ANYTHING else. I went a little bit farther today (just .06 overall, but that means I upped my running pace just a small amount). I sweated just a little bit more today. I did, however, hate it just a little bit more today. Dad tells me day three is the hardest and that it'll get better. My sunshine buddy tells me it's all mental-well, that's certainly true! Though I do have to say I love how loose my back gets after a run, and I can actually twist and move and feel things readjusting themselves the way they should.

I'm sure that the above paragraph could be shortened quite a bit, but today is an extreme weather today. So I don't care. I'm not an English teacher today. I'm just a couch potato, an elliptical nut, training to run. I hate it while I'm doing it, but I remind myself that I'm at least here and able to do it. Once I'm off the treadmill, I look forward to going back for another round.

I guess I should now tackle the stack of homework that is threatening to bite me. I remember this part of college-death by text book. I remember how when I couldn't deal with another thought going through my head, I could walk up those three stairs, through the double doors that separated third west from third west central, past Cutcher's suite, and collapse onto the futon of a girl who was always a friend. Sometimes we'd go cook, sometimes we'd just lay there and let our brains rest. Well, now she's here, telling me to get up, take all that Albion wisdom, and get moving. I hear you, I hear you! I'm going, I'm going...