Once upon a time, I was a race junkie. More specifically, I was a marathon junkie. And even more specifically, I was a goal-setting, faster, longer, better running achievement junkie.
I racked up nine marathons, with the last one clocking in at my final goal of 3 hours, 30 minutes. It was a damn fine result if I do say so myself, especially for that 40 year-old version of myself. It’s an accomplishment that I’ll forever be proud of. Mission Accomplished.
But I paid for it with my health. It was over two years before I could run without making myself sick and, by then, the habit and desire were gone, and I was on a path toward weight gain and general poor health. Boooo.
Another seven years passed (I’m 49 now) and I recently (finally!) made a successful return to running. Ten months and 40 pounds later, and I’m back… only, not in the same way as once upon a time.
Now, I don’t need to race. I don’t need another notch on my belt. I just want to run, because it makes me feel good, and it’s just so much fun. I’m fit, I feel good, and that’s all I need.
I’m awesome enough. How about you?