The past few weeks I’ve been disconnected, uninterested, and completely content. I’m apathetic to all things running, including my own. I’ve been thinking about why I started in the first place – my sister did it, a failed attempt to run away from my problems, because I was finally good at something – and why I’ve continued through the good and college (where my results were so poor people probably thought I was pulling a weighted sled) – to prove myself, validate a scholarship, make friends with other like-minded weirdos.
But now I have friends, better coping mechanisms,
higher self-esteem, and satisfaction with my running accomplishments. I’ve dreamt of the Olympics, magically sped around the track to win gold, did ‘the Bolt’ better than the man himself, and became the new baby-face destroyer. But, I don’t think I’ve ever truly thought I could make the worlds most prestigious sporting event. So, what, exactly, am I running for now? To actually race in the trials? To prove myself wrong? For fun?
I’m not quite sure what the answer to that is yet. I have no immediate plans to retire, but I don’t particularly believe in half-hearted running either, which leads me back to where I started this post – why run?
I do not, however, feel any apathy towards puppies!