It has been almost a week since I had a run. I have had a busy week of work and home renovations, and I know that is an excuse. I will go for a run in about an hour. I’m dropping the boy off at a birthday party this afternoon which will give me an uncomplicated hour to go for a run. Like

<img class=”image-process-article” alt=”Paul Flannery](https://medium.com/s/greatescape/extreme-athleticism-is-the-new-midlife-crisis-d87199a18bed) not running becomes a problem for me. I can feel my fragile motivation to run is tugged at by a dark whirlpool in my mind. A familiar depressive pattern which luckily for me and those around me I mostly outrun. I can get by without running. Raising kids, earning money and whatever else has mostly kept me on the straight and narrow.

Running or just walking for me is taking myself away and into my own space. Automatically integrating my body, thoughts and feelings with each step, scramble and stumble. When I start, like Forest Gump I have no desire to ever stop. Until I do.

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