I've started jogging lately. I don't go every day or anything, more like every other day, or every third day, but I do try. It's part of a new diet and exercise kick I've got going on right now. I don't know. But something I've noticed is that the more I run, the less sore I am afterwards, or when I wake up the next morning. The more I do it, the easier it becomes.
The more I run, the less it hurts.
As I was pondering this, I started to wish it applied to more aspects of life. Why doesn't running away from problems make them hurt less? Why doesn't running away from people make them have less power over you? In a most literal, physical sense, I can run to escape the pain, because eventually, I can outrun the pain. If I keep running, I get stronger. If I keep running, I grow. The more I run, the more pain I can take.
I drove down to my shore house a few days ago running away. I wanted to run away from my problems, from the people who were hurting me, from the difficulties I was facing. The further I ran, though, the more they loomed in my mind. The further I ran, the more the pain seeped into my joints and threatened to drag me down.
Maybe it's because running away from my problems is not the answer. Maybe it's my own way of realizing that I need to face my problems and responsibilities.
Maybe it's because I can't commit to running away from the person who is hurting me. Maybe it's because I run from him in short bursts, stopping to glance back over my shoulder, checking to see if he's following me, hoping against all hopes that he is, and breaking down on the concrete in front of me when I turn again and no one is there. Maybe it's because, by the time I've picked myself up and started running again, I'm right back where I began, and I'm running in circles.
So since metaphorical running has failed me, and literal moving on has failed me, I'll continue to pound my feet against the pavement in the park as often I can, to feel the only pain I know I can get rid of on my own.