I kept waiting and hoping I’d find something more profound to write about what I’ve learned in month seven than what I’m about to write.
Truth is, the most blaring and reoccurring reality that has come to my attention in the last few weeks is that I am a better person when I am consistently running. You may laugh and shrug this off, but it’s true. I was previously known for candidly admitting that I’m not so nice when I don’t run, and I’ve come to realize the extent of that truth that was masked in sarcasm.
In the midst of an insane schedule and lacking daylight hours, I allowed myself to fall out of my stress-relieving habit. I quieted the “shoulds” and ignored my body’s pleas of please go run. That was stupid.
Daylight savings came and suddenly I had an extra hour of daylight that I had otherwise been lacking. I seized it one evening, and nearly died of wheezing. What had I done to my body? This can’t be, I told myself.
That was weeks ago. With a routine now established and daylight only growing longer still, I am consistently and continually amazed at the magnitude of impact my renewed discipline has had on my demeanor, my productivity and my patience for the things that previously felt so heavy. Mostly, I note how much more willing I am to work towards what’s to come than the dreary, unmotivated stance I constantly fought when I was sitting idle.
This lesson isn’t specific to Madrid. It isn’t really something that is necessarily worth sharing in the plain and obvious. But the difference I see- the difference I feel– motivates me to write this to discourage me from forgetting this well-learned lesson in the future.
Put the cultural difference, weird looks and inconveniences aside, Anna. In this instance they don’t outweigh what you need, and what makes you better.