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Best Laid Plans

Every so often, I like to audit my life. The first couple of times I tried this, I was so disappointed a wave of subtle depression overcame me. The next couple of times I just blamed my father. I also found out that although (almost) every choice was made with good intentions, things just don’t work out the way they’re supposed to.

Years ago I decided to start running for exercise; it was hard, messy and sweaty but yielded fantastic results. I don’t consider myself a great runner, I don’t particularly enjoy it – it’s tolerable and doable. Yet running somehow became a big part of my life, a part of who I am.

Everyone who really knows me knows that I run – I run five times a week.

For the last year or so my running has been sporadic at best.

One of my biggest challenges in life is commitment… to anything. It was easy to let running go save for brief twinges of guilt.

I realise that I need to go back to running, I’ve gained 15lbs, a couple of my pants no longer fit, the ones I force myself into are so tight it’s as if I’m trying to prove something. I’ve stopped referring to myself as a runner but the word is already out there; conversations about running and exercise makes me uncomfortable since I’m doing neither.

Yesterday I was on instant messenger with a friend, we haven’t talked in months, he tells me he has a surprise for me, sends me a picture… and… he’s lost 30lbs – he’s started running because I inspired him!

They say the first step is admitting your problem. I’m sure it’s still somehow my father’s fault.

Here are pictures from last Saturday’s run, the start of a new cycle:

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