Alice came to a fork in the road. “Which road do I take?” she asked. “Where do you want to go?” responded the Cheshire Cat. “I don’t know,” Alice answered. “Then,” said the Cat, “It doesn’t matter.”
– Lewis Carroll, Alice In Wonderland
It's been now more than five years since I have this blog. Writing, even if sometimes less intensive, gives me lots of instant pleasure and joy. I write spontaneously, I write when I feel like I absolutely need to share something with you and I write whenever I'm in the spirit of 'seizing the moment'.
There is, however, apart from blogging about life, fashion, colours and similar issues, another activity that takes a relatively huge chunk of my time and energy. It is... running.
Perhaps not really a very 'quiant' hobby but it has a special place in my heart and in my life.
To start my story... first of all I thought I was not able to run more than a few meters (to catch the bus). I never even liked it. It all started when I was not good. It was rather a dark period in my life, when I lost a grip on what was right and wrong, when my self-esteem vanished and the whole world seemed to be full of spikes, obstacles and catastrophic thoughts. I didn't feel depressed or sad; I was just constantly tired. Tired to the extent of having spent whole weekends in bed. I did not want to participate in any evening activity and after coming home from work the only thing I dreamt about was to go to bed. I had literally no vitality in my exhausted body.
I started to run. Being put on a medical break I started feeling better. I needed to occupy myself. I am not that kind of person who can sit all day long on a couch and let time pass by. Plus, sun shines outside. I started running around the block. Then 2-3km. The distances started to increase. I felt better and better. Came back to work and kept running.
It's been 4 years. I still have the same joy, the same flow and the same enormous pleasure.
I think it saved me.