Tag: limits

Runners High

smalltownhumanbeingLeave a comment

I set a goal to each day to get outside somehow.

Whether it be sitting and looking around at the scenery, taking in a view somewhere, or simply walking around, I need to do something to clear my head.

But nothing gets the blood rushing and clears my mind like running.

There is nothing like hearing the rhythmic pitter patter of your feet hitting the solid ground.

The only problem with running is actually getting out and working up to the rhythmic sounds of your feet.

Now the easy part is once you get into the rhythm and you start to loose track of time and you feel you worries start to slip away.

Once you loose yourself, you drift into what some would call the “runners high”

That high you feel is numbing and freeing, yet it is full of utter exhaustion and the desire to quit, but something motivates you to push through and experience the moment and loose yourself.

Then in the blink of an eye, you’ve reached your destination, or something snaps you back into reality and you are back to focusing on the rhythmic pitter patter of your feet hitting the solid ground.

Art Credit: Salomon.com

insecure

mariethearistocatLeave a comment

it’s hard to come to terms with your body

when you’ve never loved it.

it’s hard to come to terms with a place

that you’ve worked so hard to reach

and not see the change you wanted.

yes, i should feel happy in my body,

but it’s hard to

when everyone else’s is what you want.

it’s hard to love a temple that isn’t decorated the way you’d like.

as a whole, i love myself.

but, there’s no part that i fully love.

i’ve always hated my thighs.

even in kindergarten, i’d pinch them

thinking they’d get smaller

as i sat criss-cross applesauce on my classroom’s brightly-colored rug.

recently, i’ve come to despise the flabbiness of my arms.

it’s not that they’re too big,

but i wish i didn’t have to do millions of push-ups to get the tone i want.

it’s hard to love my stomach,

even though it’s just my organs sitting on top of each other.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

why couldn’t my genes allow my stomach to rest flat?

why can’t i wear my tight-fitting dress without the bump made by my breakfast? 

no, my body doesn’t empower me.

i wish i was taller, thinner, had thicker hair.

i wish my chin was more defined,

my neck the same color as my face.

i wish i could run longer and faster.

i wish i could dance more gracefully; i wish i had more rhythm.

i wish my eyes didn’t water while i wrote this.

damn you, eyes.

i wish i could see 20/20,

not have to worry about my contacts falling out while i’m swimming 

or be able to fall asleep without being confronted with dry, burning eyes when i wake up.

i wish i looked like i did in my dreams.

i wish i could fly all the way to outerspace and swim in the depths of the ocean without my lungs failing me.

for, even without a complex created by magazines,

it’s still hard for me to love the body i’m in.