Running down

This is supposed to be a short post. That is, of course, how I have, thus far, introduced my longest posts.

I like to run. I have enjoyed running for several years. I normally run on my own, and I suppose that I enjoy the calmness and solitude one obtains. One's mind is mostly preoccupied with the sheer physical effort involved, and the small part that is left over is just powerful enough to sift through one's memories and the more superficial of one's thoughts. In short, it allows one to unwind, just the right amount.

People often think I'm odd when I talk about the relaxing quality of running, so here' an attempt to explain:

I want to compare people to old, mechanical, watches. The analogy may not be especially exact or entirely meaningful, but it is sufficient unto my purpose here. Most people are like most watches: their springs are wound to about the right amount, and consequently they keep about the right time. They function well in life, but occasionally they need to be wound up again, and it is good for their spring for them sometimes to be unwound.

Of course, there are people whose springs are wound a little too tightly. Watches that are wound far too tightly may run too fast, and in extreme cases they may break. And even so, people who are wound too tightly seem soemtimes to be a little too rushed (although not too fast), and are more prone to breaking than their less excitable fellows.

One of my (far too numerous to list here) faults is a tendency not to wind my spring. I am like a watch owned by a rather careless fellow; fine when primed and properly used, but sometimes found stopped when I oughtn't to be.

And so it seems that running is an appropriate form of unwinding for me. Those who are habitually wound too tightly need to unwind entirely when they rest. Those of us, on the other hand, who prefer not to be wound up quite as far as we go, have no need to do so; and running suits some of us just fine.