The Struggle is Real

Al Janabi - Pic. On the 17th of December, I have decided to go for a run which would be my first long run after my marathon, which was more than a month ago. It was a cloudy and chilly day with occasional showers that I could tolerate, so I gathered my running gear from different corners of my home: my “running hoodie,” hanging on the doorknob of my closet; my shorts from the dryer; my favorite running shoes, Brookes, from the closet near the main door of my apartment; my compression socks from somewhere else in my place. Slower than my typing skill for this post, I put the clothes on and looked through the window of my living room to assess the situation outside pondering,” should I go today, or I should do it tomorrow?”
After a period of thinking, I walked slowly to the kitchen, and with each step, a few calories were burned which could have been utilized running. Finally, I made it to the kitchen with a deep sigh and sat on a unique chair, which was unique because it was the lonely old heavy chair in there, but it was comfortable for me. On my chair, I started leaning back and forth trying to get the motivation to get out of that chair. It felt like there was a magnetic power that held my body down to the seat, and my soul was pushing against that. Finally, I got up and moved to the ironing board “table” where I had lazily thrown my things – grabbing my iPhone, a bank card, headset, and my apartment keys. I finally walked beyond the door after being drained by all the down feelings inside me, but it did not take more than a few steps before my feet took me back to where they started one minute ago.
Back again in my home, I did random little things to convince myself that I was active, and my weekend could be better; I cleaned, organized stuff, read, and took a nap but none of them brought my spirit up. It was around 4:00 PM when I questioned myself, “only two hours left for me before it gets darker and colder. Should I give it a try to go out and run?”
I went through the same cycle of pushing myself through a field of my negative vibes and low energy to get ready for going out. I was so ready physically but mentally I was waiting for my brain to signal and ignite the fuel in my muscles. This time, I made it outside, to nature, but not more than the main door of my apartment building this time.
I gave up, yes, I gave up to myself in that moment. I did not really feel bad; it just was not my day.