What a glorious evening! The sun was shining, a slight breeze was delicately teasing me and I'd finished work with the vast expanse of the weekend to look forward to. My run this evening was an absolute pleasure; no trainer issues (my feet are now firm friends with the new trainers and it looks like a promising relationship), the thrill of a new running vest to wear (new running gear is always such a treat and I looked the biz) and a bottle of Shiraz in the kitchen gently calling my name (a reward to spur me on through my run).
Whatever form of exercise you take, you'll know that some sessions are a breeze whilst others are such a slog. Sometimes everything just comes together and the session feels effortless whilst at other times all you can do is grimace and get through it. And there doesn't seem to be any cause. Tonight felt so easy, not like exercise at all; my heart rate seemed to barely move from that of resting, my breathing remained calm and even and my legs felt light with the potency of a springbok's nether quarters from first to last step. Whereas, other runs have felt like such an uphill climb; leaden and heavy-limbed, panting and sweating and awaiting that first cramping seizure of a coronary.
I'm aware that the way you feel on your run sometimes can have it's roots in any number of physical causes but sometimes it is purely a psychological game. I guess the clues for the ease of my run tonight can all be found in that first paragraph: perfect conditions, no anxieties, no work, treats and a reward.
Small wonder my run was such a pleasure: moments like this make me glad to be alive.
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