Running. I used to be addicted to it. It feels so good to get that endorphin hit.
I remember it so well… the one and only marathon, hitting that so-called wall – at 24 miles, blowing out a knee. The knee remembers. And so does the body.
While out pondering life during the pandemic, the bugs were flying around my face. I thought, dang, I forgot to put on some sort of bug repellant. I kept waving them away, waving them away. And I felt the old pangs, injuries, and life lessons. And I thought, what if this virus is like these bugs. Like these old injuries. You fight through it all and you don’t give in. And your body remembers.
In New York we had very scary days. I was terrified to leave the house. Having had lung surgery years ago, I was worried that I was one of those with a “co-morbidity”, the old scars inside my body. So I do an inhalation and exhalation test daily, checking my lung capacity during meditation.
As I was running, further than I anticipated, and further then I have gone in years, I realized my lungs felt good (it’s all that yoga folks, inquire within;)) and I remembered the feeling of being in nature, running in the hills of Montana and running all those years ago in Los Angeles. It’s gorgeous where I live, not Montana, but beautiful, in a jungle sort of way.
And I noticed the bugs were no longer pestering me. But I’m definitely throwing Lavender on next trip out.