My friend Y telling me that he's training for a marathon. It got my funny bone tickled. No, I mean running bone. Running a marathon has been always on my to-do list. It's always a dream. So far it reminds as one still. One beautiful dream. Hearing him going on about his training programs, getting new shoes and equipment, registering for prep races etc. got the amber in the back burner stoked again.
While the flame of desire and passion, for running a marathon that is, was burning hotter and brighter then ever, I climbed onto the treadmill on Friday evening for a good ol' hamster run. One solid hour later, I logged exactly 11 clicks.
I was pretty happy. Proud indeed.
Then, over the weekend, I couldn't walk up a flight of stairs or step on the gas without cringing (in my heart of course) over the tormenting spasm in my thighs and quads and feet.
Not too happy anymore. But still proud though.