I’m trying to remember back to the last time I spent three hours in a workout of some sorts. I’m thinking 2006 was probably the last time, I was the true gym rat at college. Primarily because the girl I was dating at the time was on the volleyball team, and I wanted to attempt to be as fit as she was (not even close).
After being sick, after dealing with the heat, and after even absorbing the defeat in the work force, today was the first time our that I wasn’t dying by the third lap on the track. I spent two hours on the track, and an hour in the gym. I ran a few miles, sprinted a few times, and pushed my body hard…but not to the point of complete failure.
It felt nice. I felt human, and this time it was in a good way. The sweat and heartbeat felt purifying, as if I was mentally shedding off the past two weeks of struggles. Feeling new muscles working as I keep improving my stride allows me to see a new season of life.
A strong run is the perfect way to recalibrate life after it has gotten a bit off track.