Addiction is oftimes a word linked with a compulsion of sorts. Those compulsions may deal with a drug dependency, gambling or even sex.
What about the addict whose endorphins kick in each morning, 365 days a year? Yeah, those that claim the “runner’s high” is what keeps them on the roads, the tracks and/or the trails. Are they any less addicted than one who has a $100-a-day cocaine habit?
Time to ‘fess up. I am an addict and have been for more years than I care to remember. Wait a minute! It is coming to me. Oh my goodness!
Lawdy, lawdy! I surpassed 40. No, not the big 4-0, silly. That was decades ago when youth was my best friend and worst enemy. Oh, to look back at those faster times. That is so passe.
Forty and counting represents the number of years I have run without missing a single day. A momentous milestone? Nah, just an “addict” who fears the repercussions (self-flagellation?) of missing a day of running.
Call it the “fear of the unknown,” or at least it has been for those 40-plus years. It is my own personal xenophobia, a ball and chain I have carried around for more than half of my life. Funny, it doesn’t feel like an albatross weighing me down.
Actually, I still relish awakening each morning and lacing on the running shoes. It hasn’t grown old like he who wears them.
No addiction by subtraction planned for this junkie.
February 28, 2023