I run to live. Seems like nowadays that running is the only thing that actually cheers me up, believe it or not. I’ve been up trying to get some sleep for the past some-odd hour or so. It hasn’t helped. I’m going through a creative crisis right now amid all this drama with school. I don’t know if creatives will admit this or not, but sometimes I get into this rut, where I don’t have a damned idea in my head. So I run, in order to get my mind off of it being so fucking empty.
Which brought me to a thought that came to my head while running the Nike 10K on Friday. The thought was this: No matter what my time will be or how this all turned out, I know in my heart that I did my best. I didn’t stop. I may not have won, but I beat it to the end. I may have been tired, (Lord knows any man would be), but I never showed that course that I was hurt. I never gave it that satisfaction. And that, to me, is what counts.