<i'm getting stronger...>

Man, does it feel good to finish nearly two solid hours of running and walking.

Man, if somebody told me I'd be writing something like that three months ago I would've laughed my ass off. But it does. I can feel my body responding more quickly and efficiently to the exercise. I am slow to warm up, and I still often have to run a good half-mile or so before easing into a comfortable pace, but once I'm there, that's it. I feel like I can run forever. When I DO stop, I recover very, very quickly, a fact that has surprised me.

The worst part about quitting smoking and upping the intensity of your exercise level substantially--and simultaneously--is that you really realize how incredibly stupid you were to spend whatever amount of time you spent smoking. It was seven years for me. Seven years of time, money and healthy lung tissue spent in the worst possible way. The saying that the only tihng worse than a non-smoker is an ex-smoker is true, too; I hate being around it, I hate smelling it on people, I hate smokers' breath, the way their clothes smell, the way that scent hangs around them all the time, and most of all I hate knowing that a lot of people thought the same of me not too long ago.

Running is an interesting endeavor; since you are constantly pushing your body and after awhile your knees feel like they're being jammed into your shins and every footfall is a chance to feel your joints knocking together, it's an easy sport to give up. Just as easy, however, is it an addiction. I'd long forgotten the feeling of zoning out entirely, feeling completely at ease just putting one foot in front of the other, matching pace to breath to stride, slowing when necessary, speeding up when possible, and feeling like you could go on forever. Today I ran/walked from my house in north Boulder to Gregory's at the edge of south Boulder towards the outer edges of town, then back to my office in north Boulder. Sometime soon I'll actually use the pedometer I bought the other day and start really working on my race pace, but right now it just feels so good to stride, stride, stride and feel as if I could do it forever. When I got to my office it was around eight p.m. and, gratefully, there was nobody there, but I ran up there to pick up a pound of extremely high-quality organic ground beef I'd received from our meat department earlier--the perks of working for a natural foods corporation--and subsequently forgotten in the kitchen fridge. I was stuck with a mild dilemma then...run home with the pound of beef and hope it didn't get too warm or fuck up my pacing too much by carrying it, or chicken out, call my boyfriend and beg in earnest for a ride. My legs were killing me by then, so I chickened out and Gregory was kind enough to drop everything and come drive me home.

The whole time I was running, though, by myself (Gregory met me about a third of the way from my house to his...or two-thirds of the way for him, and ran back to his place with me, so I had company for the first half), a little voice kept whispering three little words, rhythmically in tune with my breathing...(i'm getting stronger...i'm getting stronger). My lower back aches now and my hips hurt a bit, but otherwise I feel great. Oh, and there's nothing like running anywhere in Boulder, Colorado. My friends give me shit because I prefer streets to trails...don't ask me why, I don't know...and when I run the bike and pedestrian paths I tend to choose those close to streets, like this one out by the highway, but it doesn't matter. All you have to do is look up, and you see the most spectacular foothills on the planet, and the biggest sky on earth, and no matter where your mental conditioning is at that moment, you just have to grin and thank your lucky stars...you live in the most beautiful place in the world.