I started running when I was 26. My then husband had just moved out of the apartment we had moved to in northern Virginia, about 9 months prior. We had been living in together there, in separate bedrooms, for three months. It was a *very* uncomfortable and unfortunate situation, for both of us. And then, finally, I found myself in my own place. A very cute but tiny one bedroom apartment, with vaulted ceilings and a balcony. Waaaay out of my price range. But I was happy to be living by myself- FREEDOM!, for the first time ever, in this amazing city.
Truth be told, I was flat broke. More than broke. My bills were higher than my income. So I couldn't do much- anything really- without going further into debt. I had just made this life-changing decision (divorce) and was in this huge transition without two pennies to rub together. I didn't have regrets, but man, I was bored. And a little scared. And a little sad. I needed some inspiration.
I also hadn't worked out in 3 years, and I had always wanted to be a runner. It just so happened that all it costs to be a runner is $80 for a pair of shoes and a WHOLE LOT of dedication. I didn't have the $80, but I bit the bullet and charged them. Dedication wasn't a problem, since pretty much all I had was time.
My first run was March 7, 2003, and in November, 2004, I ran my first marathon.
Since then, I have had ups and downs with my running. I've had training runs that I couldn't finish, where I ended up in tears, in a heap on the asphalt. I have had amazing runs, in the crisp autumn sunshine, where I felt like my feet were landing on trampolines and my legs were made of clouds and the miles felt like minutes. (Okay fine, that has been all of about four times in 10 years but hey, I'll take 'em.) But the kicker is... For me... Running is ALWAYS work. Except for the few runs in a lifetime where it's not, running is always work. Running is never easier than sitting on the couch watching 90210 reruns. And yet, I keep doing it. Not just that... I keep LONGING to do it. Why is that? (Incidentally, I also keep sitting on the couch watching 90210 reruns... but that's not the topic of today's post.)
It's because the rest of my day... wait, not day. The rest of my life, my brain is consumed by "necessary", and "must" and "have to." It's consumed by the thinking ahead to the next task, processing the responsibility of my children, my bills, my home. I am always feeling the pressure to be one step ahead of my family and my work, and so my brain is churning, churning... The mental image I have for my brain is of wringing my hands together, pressing my palms and fingers harder and harder. And then my feet start hitting the pavement... Ahhhh.... The mind can go blank. I can think about things that feel like a luxury- like the next vacation, memories of college, good times with friends. I can just listen to the beat in my headphones and look at the trees and the sky and feel wonderfully, blissfully alone with mother nature. I can be present to the moment. Present to the stream of consciousness that happens in my brain- ever present but shoved to the background by my obligations and responsibilities. Running, which always takes the very most physical effort I can muster, requires my body to be in the most basic present. The physical effort forces my organs, my heart, my blood into keeping my body alive for that exact moment. And perhaps that connects to something in my brain which allows me- just for those 30 minutes, an hour and a half... however long I can be out there- to do nothing but just breathe, feel present to my body, and feel gratefully present to my inner monologue.
So now that I have kids, I continue to give myself the gift of running. More importantly, I continue to give myself the gift of running alone. I do not and will not ever run with my sweet babies. I have tried it and I can't get away from the responsibility of them if they are with me. So, while the physical benefit is there no matter what, it's just not enough. I need the emotional piece (peace?) too. Luckily, I have a wonderfully supportive husband who never complains, questions, or bats an eyelid when I say I'm headed out for a run. In fact, he never even asks how long I'll be gone. I wonder if he notices the difference in me, and understands that our whole family benefits from me having a little time alone.
With Pumpkin at two months old, I'm just now getting back into it. Like after Mini, I am already feeling a little injured and am taking my first few days off after only three weeks back in. It was a frustrating crawl back after Mini and I'm sure it will be the same way with Pumpkin. But I'm doing it. I love myself and my kids that much. Once my knees stop feeling like they've been hit by a sledgehammer, I'll head back out again and will keep plodding along. Breathing, listening to the beat, looking at the sky, thinking about nothing at all, and feeling grateful for the pulse of my life.
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