Like a previous relationship, running will never truly leave me. The ability to recall races, times, splits, potholes, everything comes back as if I just raced them this morning.
The adrenaline is the worst, in both situations.
The racing heart, the shallow breathing, the flight-or-fight complex.
The dreams and nightmares are livid. Frequently, I'm lucid. I know it's happening. Sometimes I can stop it and other times I can't. Sometimes, I don't want it to stop.
Every time I go for a run, whether as a warm-up in the morning for crew or a cool-down after an erg piece, each step, every pound of the pavement whisks me back to another time, another life, another phase. One that I had to let go, but there is still within in me this deep, burning desire to return to it.
I'm not sure if I ever will, though. A lot of damage was done. But clearly, it was not enough to stop me from thinking about it.
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