Red Mosquito

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:

Bammer wrote:I just got back from a run. Been a while. Thanks for the inspiration, bros.

how was it?

washing machine wrote:We did it, guys. 100 miles on the Bostons.

I know, I know. You can go 400-500 miles on a shoe. But to be fair, I use these shoes for work and average 2 miles on my feet during a regular shift. So, they're more worn than verb thinks.

They do still have some life in them. I'll run in them some more, especially on rainy days. I can't wait to get into those Kinvaras next week, though.

verb_to_trust wrote:

washing machine wrote:We did it, guys. 100 miles on the Bostons.

I know, I know. You can go 400-500 miles on a shoe. But to be fair, I use these shoes for work and average 2 miles on my feet during a regular shift. So, they're more worn than verb thinks.

They do still have some life in them. I'll run in them some more, especially on rainy days. I can't wait to get into those Kinvaras next week, though.

I'm going to post a picture of my Boston grave yard at the end of winter. I have four pairs that are just barely hanging on but I don't want to get new shoes until the snow is gone for the year.

washing machine wrote:

verb_to_trust wrote:

washing machine wrote:We did it, guys. 100 miles on the Bostons.

I know, I know. You can go 400-500 miles on a shoe. But to be fair, I use these shoes for work and average 2 miles on my feet during a regular shift. So, they're more worn than verb thinks.

They do still have some life in them. I'll run in them some more, especially on rainy days. I can't wait to get into those Kinvaras next week, though.

I'm going to post a picture of my Boston grave yard at the end of winter. I have four pairs that are just barely hanging on but I don't want to get new shoes until the snow is gone for the year.

All 7s in the same colorway, amirite?

verb_to_trust wrote:

washing machine wrote:

verb_to_trust wrote:

washing machine wrote:We did it, guys. 100 miles on the Bostons.

I know, I know. You can go 400-500 miles on a shoe. But to be fair, I use these shoes for work and average 2 miles on my feet during a regular shift. So, they're more worn than verb thinks.

They do still have some life in them. I'll run in them some more, especially on rainy days. I can't wait to get into those Kinvaras next week, though.

I'm going to post a picture of my Boston grave yard at the end of winter. I have four pairs that are just barely hanging on but I don't want to get new shoes until the snow is gone for the year.

All 7s in the same colorway, amirite?

I have pink, yellow, pale blue and dark blue

verb_to_trust wrote:Those are casual shoes bruh

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:i'm going out in a little bit i promise

Spoiler: show

In his running memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, Haruki Murakami confesses:
I’ll be happy if running and I can grow old together.”

This speaks to my soul. I can’t and don’t want to imagine my life without running. It completes me.
But at the same time, I’m not fooling myself. A day will come when I put on my shoes for one last time and hit the road towards the running sunset.

Maybe all those years of sitting behind a keyboard in the pursuit of a writer’s calling will result in unbearable back pain. I won’t bend to lace my shoes. Maybe my legs will give up from hundreds of thousands of ran kilometers. Maybe I’ll leave this world suddenly after an illness or accident; running and I will part our ways in quiet without fanfare.

Many philosophers emphasized the importance of meditating on our death so that we appreciate the gift of life.
Memento mori, remember that you must die!

From all the sages who walked the Earth, the Antique Stoics pursued this topic with the deepest interest. Ryan Holiday, a famous writer and man who has brought Stoicism to a global spotlight, writes:
“Meditating on your mortality is only depressing if you miss the point. It is in fact a tool to create priority and meaning. It’s a tool that generations have used to create real perspective and urgency. To treat our time as a gift and not waste it on the trivial and vain. Death doesn’t make life pointless but rather purposeful.”

As I meditate on my death to live fully, I think of the time when I’m no longer able to run to appreciate how much alive the pain of running makes me feel.
It’s about joy

We all have our unique reasons why we run.

Running is an exercise, a leisure hobby, but it is also therapy. Running is a religion, a way to unite our body and spirit.

Running is much bigger than just the sum of its parts.

But when we strip it of all its labels and go straight to the core, running is about joy. The joy of movement and fresh air, but also the joy of pain and struggle. The joy of being alive.

We remind ourselves how wonderful it is to be alive. We honor it with each conquered mile.

However, it would be a blatant lie to claim that every run is pure joy. Sometimes, accumulated emotions or even those that had been rotting inside of us boil over into a wild rollercoaster.
I’ve been there; some of those extra-long runs resulted in tears pouring down my face or a hysterical laugh taking control over me.

I ran and felt like dragging the problems of the whole world tied around my waist. But I also ran without a shed of worries, feeling every fiber of my body.
I ran like it would be my last run ever.

“Run often. Run long. But never outrun your joy of running.” — Julie Isphording, former Olympic runner

Since I was a boy, I ran around the block with friends, played football (soccer) surrounded by high-rises, or represented my school in the 60m dash. Running is a vital part of me.
But I didn’t start regular running practice until I got to university. I will always remember one of my first jogs freshman year. It was mid-January, and I was in my dorm room. But then I glanced at the thermometer behind the window; it showed -20°C (-4°F). Something inside of me switched, and I put on my sneakers.

I’ve been running ever since this Arctic experience.

When I hit a couple of weeks (once even a couple of months) without a single run, my life shifts for the worse. My body decays, my mind gets covered with a veil of dark fog, and my relationships deteriorate.

My reality is always bleaker without running.

But when I hit a running streak, the rest of my life follows the lead. It’s like a domino; one action triggers a tsunami of positivity.
Every mile represents an inch towards the man I aspire to be.

As long as I can walk, I will run. I will always run convinced that tomorrow, or in a couple of days, I will hit the road again.

A higher power will have to come to take running away from me. But it won’t come screaming to my face: This is your last run!
It will come with compassion.

It will let me savor my last run and enjoy the blissful feeling I love so much. Then it will forever take running away from me.
I won’t have to endure the painful goodbye. In my mind, I will always run.
This warms my heart.

“There will come a day when I can no longer run. Today is not that day.” — Unknown

washing machine wrote:That doesnt sound like a bust at all. That sounds like a lot of ground covered and a sizeable amount of outdoor activity.