Cathartic
I'm starting to feel like Forrest Gump.
After I got home from work, I got dinner. But, before I ate, I went to the gym. Yep, that's day number 4! I forgot how much I love that sore feeling. It's a constant reminder of how much I'm challenging myself, and how much I'm actually rising to the challenge. I spent time on the treadmill as well since I've only got 12 days until the 5K. I hate the treadmill; cardio at the gym is so boring.
On the way home, I started to think about an ongoing situation involving an ex-boyfriend. (I, of course, will blog about this another day.) Initially, I was angry. And, as I was driving--sunroof open, radio on, music loud(ish)--I started to feel sad. Then, my eyes watered. As soon as the first tear popped out of my lacrimal duct, and slowly pooled in my eye, until it slid down my cheek, I just lost it. There was something about the way it felt. A tear so out of place on my cheek with the warm night and the loud(ish) music. The more I thought, the more it hurt and the more I cried. So, in the spirit of Forrest Gump, "I decided to go for a little run."
People are right about running. It does make you feel better. Suddenly, I realized I wasn't crying anymore. I was focusing on the feel of the mist on my face; thinking about how there's nothing like being alone, outside in the dark; meditating on my breath and the rhythm of my shoes on the concrete. I decided that the reason running works so well to make me feel better is that it's an incompatible response. Physiologically, it's really difficult to inhale enough air to remain upright when one's nose is filled with crying-induced snot. So, in order to avoid passing out, it's best to just quit thinking about stupid ex-boyfriends and run, Forrest, run!
