Now I'm not sure who I am or what the future holds, but like usual I find myself slowly throwing my mangled beaten up body down the road again and again, day after day, to get in my miles. Running is the only thing that makes sense to me in this world. I am eternally thankful for the countless times it has picked me up from my lowest points in life to remind me that there are brighter days ahead. In a world full of hypocrites, smart phones and fast moving fake things, running is the last beautiful thing in life that no one can take from you.
I've accepted the fact I'm never going to be the best. I've accepted the fact that I'm never going to even come close to being noticed, but none of that matters to me. Running has been there when no one else has, and for that I owe it my life.
I've been training full-time now for over two months, and its been a hard but rewarding task. It has been over a year since I put any thought and effort back into my training, and now that I'm slowly making a comeback I feel alive once again. The world is brighter, my food tastes better, and my body aches of satisfaction from the days effort. There is nothing in this world more real and honest than putting on a pair of running shoes and hammering away on a autumn day.
I've got a long way to go, but the demons are still screaming not to give up. I've got a couple things I want to do still on that 400 meter circle before I'm content with becoming a hobby jogger, and I intend to go after that full fucking throttle ahead.
Here is to the long cold winter of training ahead.
- BJW
