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Running and the Meaning to Life
misc 1

One of the deconversion problems I have been having is meaning to life. I have many things that are fulfilling. I have friends who I can rely on. I have an opportunity to play hostess. I have regular games which allow me to be creative and get my desire to make stories out in a social situation. I have physical exercise, and a rotational determination to eat better. I have a job which allows me to pay my bills and offers me great bosses and work that I enjoy (and sometimes boring work that I don't, but eh). I have a home, clothes, two beautiful awesome cats. I have a garden which continually needs me to figure out a way to do it better. I have knitting and other creative outlets. I can help make an impact on the world through helping John get his games out. And now, I have anti-depressants and CBT to get to where I am free of the black darkness that has followed me all my life.

I have all I need to have a good life. a life that is enjoyable.

However, religion did something to me. It made me want... a meaning. a purpose that was bigger than me. I'm not the sort of person to make for a good social worker, and it never called to me in a way that I need for something to be my "purpose."

It is funny, because my purpose as a Christian was doing whatever god wanted. Since he couldn't make that clear to me, I was living my life, trusting that he would guide me and use me, and make good on my life to his purpose. What I am doing now, is no different than what I did then, except that I don't think there is a puppet master to make my life worth something if I don't make it worth anything myself.

I acknowledged that the idea that we need to have our meaning "given" to us by some sort of designer is damaging and inaccurate. It causes problems much later in life and gives a sense of helplessness that is unnecessary and harmful. It can cause us to stumble in living life, because we have to constantly evaluate what we want to do with what we think our holy book/diety tells us.

That doesn't help. I still want this thing... Need this thing... Even if I know I'm better off now. I just need... something. Something to ease my brain, to let everything be OK to just... live.

I may have stumbled upon it. It started with an article talking about how humans evolved to be running animals. That our strength in running is endurance. It talks about how human hunters can run an antelope to the ground. While the antelope may have short bursts of speed, the human can keep it up, and eventually, the antelope lays down, exhausted and overcome with heat. The concept was boggling. From that article, someone suggested a book for more information, Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes and the Greatest Race the World has Never Seen, by Christopher McDougall.

My mind is expanding at the idea. Humans evolved to be really good  at a few things. Thinking about thinking is one of them. Our rampant sexuality is another. Running is a third.

There are studies that prove that humans can learn better and faster after aerobic exercise. Being active and athletic is vitally important. For me, cycling was to be my sport. However, what appealed to me the most: going fast and going long distances has slowly been eaten away. Going fast is responsible for all but one of my accidents with other wheeled vehicles. Yes, there were other factors, and it was their fault many times, but if I wasn't going fast, and pushing hard, I would have avoided the accident. So, my subconscious said... done.

Now, I have a hard time pushing myself to the place where riding is glorious and exalting... it is a chore. Not an unpleasant one, but it no longer is the glorious beauty it once was. I can't ride long distances, because I need speed to make that comfortable, to get speed, I need to be able to ride fast to work. Riding fast to work increases my chances of getting hit... and that all fumbles into the dust. Add to that, the need to replace expensive components (which my bikes are due for).... cycling just can't cut it anymore.

Not that I'm giving up the bike. I've stripped off my derailleurs and am running with a funny looking single-speed (still has the cogs for a 10 speed). At some point I'll put a flipflop hub on it and have the ability to go fixed, but for now, this suits.

I'm ready. Ready to find something. I've tried running a few times, but I couldn't get it to stick. Now, I'm learning that I've been doing it wrong, and for the wrong reasons. Shuck the shoes, get thin huaraches for the summer heat, put on a skirt (because it is more fun and I feel pretty in skirts) and run. It's slow going, because I have to build up my muscles, but every time I find something new about how I should be running, I switch it up. I'm thrilled, excited, and passionate.

Humans evolved to run. I can run, and if I do it right, I'll be a damn fine runner. I'll likely end up doing ultra running, of course. That's my style. I also have learned that female ultra runners can hold their own with men. Totally hot.  Another thing about these runners is that it is about love. loving running, loving people.... Also sexy.

I'm excited and thrilled and looking forward to this transformation of my life. My diet will change, but it was already shifting. This just gives me more motivation to keep pushing for that.

It may not be an intelligent higher power, and it may seem silly, but... it will do.  It will do.