Out there

It's 5:15 and my alarm goes off. I don't really want to get up, but I'm not really tired. I dawdle in bed for another 10 minutes then get up, start the coffee, check email, begin this blog entry. I should go running, I really want to.

Out there it's inhospitable, still dark, probably not cold, but seems like it should be nonetheless. Perhaps too many years spent in a cold climate where it almost always is cold at 5:30. My nice warm bed and house, hot coffee and comfort here, the dark and cold out there. In here: the indolent pleasure of sitting and surfing. Out there: the dark, the pounding pavement, whizzing cars with glaring headlights, straining muscles, straining lungs.

Yet I love the feeling of being out there running, using my body like a machine, feeling in control. I feel strong, healthy, good. Once I'm out there, I love it, savor the act of living that running really is. If being out there running isn't living to the fullest, what is?

Out there is daunting isn't it? At least it always is for me. Perhaps for some it's always first and foremost something else: an adventure, an opportunity, a chance to live. I recognize it as all those things and yet find it intimidating. I'm not sure why. What am I afraid of? failure? the unknown? doing something hard? I couldn't tell you, although I know exactly what I do like about being out there.

I can think of many reasons why I should be out there, want to be, and no good reasons why I shouldn't or don't want to. Yet, I'm still here typing, sitting in my warm house, on my soft couch, drinking my coffee, comfortable.

Those miles won't run themselves.

Time to go out there.