Yesterday I ran three miles. Before I headed out, I was euphoric over the upcoming run; during the run, I was often cold, often breathless and occasionally annoyed at my hobby; after the run, I was zen.
I feel like life is back to normal.
Week one without running was crappy, because I had a nasty cold, but otherwise welcome — I needed the rest.
Week two without running was also crappy, which I at first attributed to the sinus infection that replaced my cold. In addition to the usual fun symptoms of sinus infections, I started struggling to sleep, feeling generally repellant to other people (nothing says "let's hang out!" like filling a tissue with snot every 10 minutes), and growing irritable.
This probably makes me the asshole runner everyone loves to hate, but I'll say it anyway: I think the sinus infection contributed to my insomnia and crankiness, but quitting running cold turkey probably exacerbated the situation.
On the bright side, when this epiphany occurred over the weekend (with a few more days of hibernation still scheduled), I realized it was a rare running layoff that I didn't fear would turn into a permanent end to running.
And out I went. The run wasn't spectacular, but it wasn't terrible, either, like I thought it might be. (Another bright side: Two weeks is not enough to destroy my fitness!)
Endorphins still came, the shower felt that much more amazing because of all the sweat it washed off, the food tasted that much better, and the sleepiness that hit during "Lincoln" was that of a good effort given, not of sitting mostly motionless in a darkened room for hours.
So as enjoyable it's been to have legs that don't stiffen up after long periods of sitting, or not having to practice time-management skills, I'm not sorry to see it end.