Limits

I am not a person who does things by halves, generally. If I get in a mood to, say, extensively clean my house, I will be on my hands and knees scrubbing tiles with a toothbrush. If I love you, I would pretty much do anything short of homicide for you. And if I genuinely hate you (not an emotion I truly feel often,) you should probably pray we never meet in a dark alley.

Running is hard for me. My normal, me-like inclination is to go balls out on it. Run like demons are chasing me. Run hard enough that I can't think of anything but my feet on the pavement. Fast and hard.

Running is not a balls out exercise. It's something where you have to know when to push yourself and when to throttle back. I am amazing at pushing myself; I am awful at throttling back. Especially since part of why I like running is the fact that it does push the thoughts out of my head. The faster I run, the more that happens.

But I am just starting, really, and I have to learn to be patient, too. Another virtue I lack.

I really look forward to the day that I can maintain the pace that I want. Until then, I work on knowing my limits.