I used to run to lose weight. To track how many calories I could spare before I felt guilty about what I ate. I used to run to de-stress and re-center from the weight of building both a career and a family at the same time. I used to run to get rid of something. Get rid of fat, pressure, responsibility. A necessary evil I convinced myself that I had to do. It was like that for as long as I could remember.
But something changed today. My relationship with running just evolved. I felt different; it was noticeable, and the invisible force pushed me forward this morning.
I’m not tracking my calories or miles, nor my time or pace. I feel strong; I feel fast (I’m not). I feel centered to the ground while letting my thoughts roam free to live in the nature through which I am fortunate to run, and throughout the community for which I finally feel apart. I feel free from the weight of it all.
I feel centered to the ground while letting my thoughts roam free to live in the nature through which I am fortunate to run, and throughout the community for which I finally feel apart.
I used to fantasize about being the person who didn’t have to take the client call. Didn’t have the weight of the new business pitch or client presentation. Didn’t have to have the difficult, candid conversation with a colleague, explain the impossible truth to a team, or absorb the stress of a superior. Didn’t have to drop off at daycare early and pick up late. Didn’t have to take the evening call while pretending my babies weren’t begging me to hang it up. I would daydream about what it would be like to just have it all stop. It was a blissful, yet fleeting thought. Just a simple glimpse into what could be.
But today, I became that person. I was the daydream. On my own terms, I finally felt at peace with my decision to step away and spend my days exactly how I choose. Today it was one filled with my thoughts; crisp air, warm sun, slight breeze surrounding me, each foot hitting the ground in my own perfect rhythm, mile after mile, after beautiful mile (on this particular day, eight-and-a-half). All while being pulled by the beat and rhythm of the music so loud that it drowned out any thought I had to stop. It was pretty damn freeing, and for this, I am most grateful.