And as I run I think.
I think about my brother, my mother, my old instructor, my students, my partner, my baby, my future, my past. I think how these thoughts race around, and about how I will get rid of them, and how I need to get rid of them, how I need to be different.
And as I think I feel.
I feel my heart beating faster from the action and the thoughts, the need to do more and better, the fear that it’s not enough, that I am not enough. I feel my knees bearing weight they’re unpracticed bearing. I feel afraid of the clutter, the worry, the never enough.
I feel the pavement beating against my feet like music with the base turned up loud enough to jog the mind away from all the thinking and be
And as I breathe I try to remember everything I have to do and then I try to forget everything that has to be done and that I ever tried to remember at all.
The muscles send their aching signals to my brain and I wonder if it will feel different again, if I’ll be able to run for longer, if I’ll ever be as strong as I was before. I’m halfway home so I just keep going.
The pavement shifts beneath my feet. Downhill toes assisted in their march forward by the gentle slope nudging them along suddenly meet the pavement one moment sooner; calves stretch a little farther; heels drop a little lower; my steps shorten and my breathing slows.
Stronger. If I let them shift, the thoughts and feelings move through my body and release, joining the leaves in the trees and the dust in the wind and I am left with knowing that I am stronger than before, although I cannot run as far, and I cannot do as much in one day but I can be still for longer periods. Like writing stamina, I have built my stillness stamina and that is a lot.
I revel in the space around me, and inside of me. I realize I feel proud that I felt this need, to be out here, to be moving in space, to be free of sitting and thinking and trying and just be. Here. Moving.
I run because I am perfect already, perfectly learning to run again, perfectly learning to let go and to move through worry, pain and fear instead of avoiding it.
I run because I am just as I am and will only ever be, but I have forgotten that again. And the forgetting is perfect, too, but without it this beautiful run may not have happened.
3/1 – #SOL18