Unbound

I don’t consider myself a runner. A runner is someone who runs seriously, who trains, and who competes in marathons. Me, I jog. Cuz ‘jog’ is casual. I don’t do it in the rain, and I don’t stress if I miss a day, and I certainly don’t race against anyone. But still, reading about Haruki Murakami talking about running and writing resonated with me. It’s all in the rhythm.

When I’ve got the rhythm, I can jog for ages, and I enjoy every minute of it. I listen to music. Gully runs along beside me, and all the stress of the day (and the pain in my back) goes away, until I’m nothing but smooth, constant movement. And when I’ve got the rhythm, I can type for hours. I listen to music, and the cats lie next to me (or sometimes on the keyboard). The rest of the world goes away, I don’t even notice the pain in my back, and I’m nothing but the world on my screen and the people in my head.

Right now is not one of those times.

I wish it was. I want that rhythm back. But the big wide world (actually, mostly the big pushy day-job) is tripping me up. So what can I do? Keep running, right? Keep moving forward, keep breathing, until that rhythm returns.