Spring and fall are much more enjoyable to me than summer or winter. For one thing, spring and fall rarely seem to drag on forever. For another thing, I'm much more comfortable in the more moderate temperatures of spring and fall. Plus, I enjoy all the changes that come in these more transitional seasons.
But I think the main reason I love both spring and fall is because I'm a distance runner at heart. For years, I spent crisp fall days running around forests and parks and golf courses for cross country meets, and I whiled away warm spring evenings circling the track. More than five years removed from my last collegiate race, I'm far from being in peak physical condition. Without meets to look forward to, I can't summon the motivation to run through the winter anymore, and the long, hot monotony of summer running has never been my favorite. But when the weather begins to change, I start longing for a good run. For a few fleeting weeks, the old drive kicks into high gear, and there's nothing I enjoy more than pounding out some miles. And as I stride along I remember being 17 and waking up to the shock of the dark, cool morning as I squeezed in a workout before school. I remember being 19 and turning run after run into both an adventure and a bonding session with my teammates/boys/best friends. I remember being 21 and exploring a new city in another country on the other side of the world while out for a run. Now that I'm a little older and a lot more out of shape, it takes more effort to finish the run; it hurts just a bit more. But here's the thing about running: no matter how brutal the run itself is, afterwards there's always the feeling of euphoria. It's always rewarding. It's almost addictive. I don't know if or when I'll ever seriously train for a race again, but I'm sure of one thing: until the day my legs give out, I'll never truly stop running.
Grace and peace,
BMH
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