Running has just not been happening for me lately. After such a run-centric month in October, I just cannot seem to carve out the time in November.
Mostly, it is a time issue. There has been kids and weather and travel and simply no time to run. I manage to still work out because I can still use the child care center at the gym and take classes during the day pretty consistently, though even those have suffered a bit lately. Yet it is the unadulterated freedom necessary to hit the trail that I am lacking.
I would have preferred this scheduling conflict arisen during the summer months, when running is somewhat ruined by the temperatures outside. Being prevented from lacing up in the fall and winter months is more tragic as it is my favorite time to run.
Under normal circumstances, this disturbance in my running force would leave me a bitchy, unsatisfied mess. However, this time, I had the realization that this is just not a running chapter in my life. After having my first child and before conceiving my second was a running chapter. Nearly exclusively a running chapter. I ran 20-30 miles a week and did nothing else for fitness (except when I was belly dancing before we moved back to Colorado).
My life has changed since then. I have a second child. I live in a different place. I have a different job and added author responsibilities. I have added other pursuits to my fitness regime. My life is simply different, and I cannot expect to maintain the same devotion to running as I was able to commit under different circumstances.
That also does not mean I will never return to such practice of my passion. It does not mean I am over running. It simply means that I cannot realistically do it now. There will be other chapters in my life. Like when both kids are in school full time and I will have more flexible hours during the day to balance between work and fitness. This chapter has me running very little in comparison; perhaps the next will have me returning to my obsessive origins.
This realization, this peace with the reality of my current situation, has made the lack of running easier to deal with. I am focusing on enjoying the thing I am doing right now. Zumba, dance, and different classes at the gym. I am running when I can and trying to maintain some level of training. Perhaps my fitness routine needed to become more balanced anyhow.
The dance, on the other hand, has been rather fulfilling. It is not the belly dance from Tennessee I so desperately miss or that I recently had a brief opportunity to visit and recall, yet it is something in that vein; it still engaged that part of me so blissful when moving to music. So while the running part of me is left wanting, the dancing part of me is granted more attention and expression. They cannot all win simultaneously, so they will have to take turns.
I do miss the trail though. I miss when I met it frequently. I miss when it felt more like home. But that, apparently, is for another chapter.
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