Ca c'est l'amour, non?

Warning: this post may contain melodrama.

I took the day off work today with the specific purpose of going for a long run. With the weekend down in Darlington, this was the only time I could fit one in. However, it was not to be.

On Saturday, I tripped quite dramatically when we were at the Brick Train and I seem to have hurt the bridge of my right foot. It's the same foot that I sprained twice last week. I went out for a 12 miler today, but my foot didn't feel right. I got about a mile from home and decided it wasn't a good idea to continue.

I probably could have gone on, but if I'm honest, my heart wasn't in it. Over the last couple of months, I've been having a bit of a weird time with running. I used to love it - it gave me space, kept me sane, made me happy. But I haven't felt this way in a while. I keep trying, but I fear I'm running more for habit. I seem to have lost something special along the way. I feel like I'm running along the beach with Apollo Creed next to me and I'm letting him win, and I don't care. (Told you there'd be melodrama.)

I kind of feel that general malaise about life at the moment. I don't know why. But I am determined to only do things that make me happy. I will of course continue to run, but I need to get back to doing it my way.

In the spirit of doing things that make me happy, I went to the Scottish National Gallery this afternoon to see The Kiss. It's only at the gallery for another few days, so this was my last chance.

One of the greatest artistic evocations of love; It is, quite simply, beautiful. You can see Rodin's passion and love for his work in the sculpture and of course you can see the love between his subjects; Paolo Malatesta and Francesca da Rimini. I walked around the sculpture for ages. I love the muscle definition Rodin has captured in the marble. It seems so alive. A fantastic piece of art.

I am suitably inspired; I want to feel that level of passion in life. Alas, I am not a sculptor, but I'm sure I can find my own way.