I used to consider myself a runner. I charted routes and crafted playlists and followed training plans, though never quickly and never longer than a half marathon. Speedwork stressed me out, and finding hills wasn’t a thing in Royal Oak. Now I live somewhere with plenty of hills and I basically use my treadmill and spend more of my “run” walking than anything.
I still make playlists. Ryan and Abbey make better playlists, but I still do my best to find songs that make me happy, songs that make it easier to move my body when sunlight won’t crack through the basement windows for hours.
This morning, I didn’t have a run planned — and this is not a vignette about how my body just felt like running so I did that instead of walking. My body doesn’t do that much anymore, and I only say that because saying “never” seems extreme. I chose sleep over a 4:30 a.m. wakeup time, and then I felt guilty when I walked in the house after taking the kids to school. I had time for a 45 minute walk, approximately. I’m not going to lie, though, the plan involved a more…leisurely walk than you might imagine. I didn’t exactly have time for a strenuous workout that would lead to having to take my second shower in two hours. No one has time for that.
The first five minutes were easy. I did my trio of little daily games (Wordle, the Mini crossword, Connections). I let my playlist begin. (I know I could just walk without doing any of those things. I didn’t choose to do that, and with the mornings staying darker and darker, I will use the treadmill almost exclusively. We don’t have sidewalks!)
As I increased the incline, my playlist picked up. Arctic Monkeys. Foo Fighters. Lady Gaga. Rihanna. I put down my phone and added additional incline and speed (a very small amount of additional speed). I felt a glimmer of the endorphins I used to get from running, which I didn’t think I’d ever feel without working up a major sweat. That glimmer got me through an extra half mile, and it maybe changed my mood for most of the day.
I miss the real “runner’s high” I used to experience when I ran more, and there are days I want to say screw my knees and my old-lady lungs and my excuses, just in hope of finding those endorphins again. Today, though, that glimmer helped.
I keep seeing things about glimmers as an opposite of triggers, and I’m intrigued. I’m not sure if they’re made up or an actual phenomenon, but they interest me. I appreciate the idea of finding moments that can change my mood or my attitude for the better, moments of peace or beauty or joy or love that I didn’t expect to experience. I’m not sure it counts as a glimmer if I find it in a playlist I created for myself, though I do play them on shuffle, so the particular order of songs wasn’t by design.
I’m not sure than it matters.
I hope I can remember that feeling the next time I’m struggling to find a little figurative sunlight in my day. I hope I can find those endorphins again — even if it means I need the Foo Fighters or Rihanna or Alex Turner to help me do it.
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