My latest coaching gig began last night. It was the first night in a long time that I ran. If I think about it, it’s sort of embarrassing. I mean, to some extent I’m kind of an ambassador of sorts to the activity. And yet, there I was actually avoiding running for weeks. I was feeling a little bit shy to actually get out there. Well, shy or not, I just had to set that all aside. Compared to some of my previous clinics this is a relatively smaller one. All the same, I have to pump out the positivity. Every single bit matters, right?
On Monday night there was a really heavy dumping of snow in the Toronto area. By Tuesday the temperature rose well above freezing meaning that much of the snow had melted down into pools of slush on the sidewalks. During the run my clinic members gingerly sidestepped around everything. I tried to encourage them to just plow through the puddles. I set an example by doing so myself. I ended up with cold soaked shoes, but I didn’t mind. Nasty, but a good reminder about the joys of running through winter.
When I got back to the store, I got my street wear together and headed for the change room. As I sat down I started peeling off my cold socks. As I did my wrinkly shrivelled feet seemed to gasp for air. All of a sudden I had to just pause. I wasn’t about to cry or anything but I knew that there was a thought there that was begging for attention. I wasn’t really able to put it all together until I took a moment to focus. That’s when it finally came to me. The result was mildly melodramatic, but so damn eloquent. After my long absence from running, having done a run among everyone else at the store: I felt whole again.


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