I'll admit: in the early months of every year, I struggle to maintain a sense of purpose and motivation. I'd say we all do. The grey lacquered across the sky seeps into my sleeping pattern, my routine, my imagination.
The biggest mistake I make (and continue to make, year after year, to my own chagrin) is that I stop running. Inevitably something interrupts my autumnal routine and my mileage drops, often to zero. I could blame the shift in weather from 'rainy-and-chilly' to 'rainy-and-unforgivingly-frigid'. I could also blame the holidays, a busy schedule, or the shortening of days. But I suspect it's not much more than laziness. The Canadian in me wants to hunker down for the winter, put on an extra layer of insulation and wait the season out. This does the trick for a while. However, by the time mid-January hits, I'm struggling.
Lucky for me, I live in Dublin. Spring peeks its head out from behind the arctic weather around here sometime in February. It will normally go back into hiding until May or June, but for a blessed few weeks we get to see a tiny bit of sun.
And as soon as I see those rays timidly peeking from behind the bulking clouds, my runners are on and I'm flying out the door. As I pound around the park, stretching my crampy, winter muscles, I wonder why I let myself slip out of this elative habit. It's a brilliant exchange: I give my body a good cardio-thrashing, and it gives me endorphins and a new perspective.
And when the sun is this stark, this startling, this unforgiving, I feel as if I could run and never stop.
* sidenote: I am not a photographer. I am not good a photography. I point my camera in the general direction I think I want to capture, click, and hope for the best. Sometimes I play with buttons here and there, and hope that it makes a difference. You will have to forgive me and put up with me for a while. Hopefully I'll learn something along the way here.
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