When I was young, I used to run. I don’t mean like casual run. I mean I had an older brother who I admired tremendously that was a marathon runner and I wanted to be just like him. So he trained me. I ran short distances and long ones. I ran fartleks…look that up if you don’t know what it means! I once got in big trouble because my dad couldn’t find me at 6 am when I was out on an early morning run! I trained for the Governors Cup, an annual race in Helena Montana. I won first place in the 20k when I was just twelve. Of course I was the only one in that age division…..but that doesn’t matter, does it?
Somewhere along the course of junior high and high school my definition of running changed. I ran alright……wild! Getting caught up in the politics of young life and acceptance I traded the running shoes for the party hat.
After high school I dabbled in running. It was a casual relationship. Sometimes I would go a month being a dedicated runner. Sometimes there would be months of not running at all. This reluctant relationship lasted for years, until after I turned thirty five.
It was then that the panic attacks struck. As my healing journey began I started running again. This time I committed to be a fully engaged runner. I bought the shoes. I ran short, then a little longer. I even ran a few fartleks! Then somewhere in the distance that little girls voice from years ago remembered how much she loved to run. The power of subjecting my body to the rigorous routine of running felt good. No, it felt great! I had a focus. A goal. My wonderful running buddy told me I could do it. Yes, a marathon.
It was through sheer willpower and determination that I completed the training for my first marathon. Something wonderful happened along that journey of achievement. I noticed things that I hadn’t noticed in years….raindrops on roses…whiskers on kittens…..Oh, wait a minute, not THAT! Seriously, I was reintroduced to the joy of moment by moment living through those long runs in the woods and on the road. What a gift.
Often times, when I need a little inspiration, I will pull out my first running journal. I reflect on all the aliments and accomplishments I have incurred since I became a runner. It is with this excitement that I tie up my shoe laces and hit the road, knowing that with each purposeful stride a new story will unfold.
Life Lesson? Life is about putting one foot in front of the other, no matter what the weather, and enjoying the awesome scenery of each new path you explore.
