Reclaiming What’s Mine

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Toady I took back my run. If you had asked me a year ago what I loved, I would have said “I love to run,” without hesitation, but I lost that. I lost my run. I could run, but I just didn’t want to. I guess you could call it my mojo, but why?

You see, 288 days ago, I ran a marathon & it stole my love of running. I trained… I ran… I ran a lot… and I burned myself out. For the past 9 months, I’ve tried to run. I’ve gone fast, slow, and everywhere in between but it just didn’t work. I had no idea what it would take to get my run back. Maybe I would just quit being a runner.

So much of what I have been over the last 7 years has been partially defined by calling myself a runner. Could I really be OK with changing that? Could I just quit? Would I have to put away the medals, the running bibs, the car magnets? No. I just couldn’t do it, so…

I went. No expectations. No time or
distance. I ran. I stopped to enjoy the world around me. I high-fived tree leaves, I took in the beauty around me, I listened to my body, I may have even shed a few tears (sometimes I cry when I run… the sun makes my eyes water). I ran, uphill, downhill, I even spread my wings, kicked up my heels and ran fast downhill and closed my eyes for just a second. And I felt alive.

When all was said and done, I knew I was back. How far & how fast didn’t matter. All I could think about was when I would run next. (Those of you who are runners understand.) I am a runner. See you on the road.

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