Running Against the Wind
Running has always been a release for me.
As a kid I loved to run up and down the soccer field, thinking one step ahead excited to make an assisting pass or score a goal. In college, I loved to lace up my sneakers, breathe in the fresh air, and run my two-mile loop as a break from studying in the library.
Now, don’t get me wrong, when I say I love running that does not mean I am out there running marathons. A two-to-three-mile run is my sweet spot. A way to get my adrenaline pumping, form a nice glazed sweat, and totally lose myself in the empowered playlist that I most likely have listened to on repeat the last five runs. I am incredibly thankful for the two legs that allow me to keep moving because without them I would be unable to process the mosh pit of emotions I feel on a daily basis. A good run ignites my emotions and mind at the same time. As a collective, my mind and heart dance together releasing all that is bound.
After losing my dad to a sudden stroke, running saved me. It was something I could do without the help of others, at any time, in any place.
I could be mid-step and start crying. Or pick up my pace in a full sprint entrenched in the deep anger that filled the depths of my belly, sprinting until my lungs ran out of air.
On some runs I could feel light and airy—slowly jogging with my music loud, dancing around with my arms up in the air; taking a moment to stop and spin, staring up at the beautiful clouds above, feeling the grace of all that is bigger than me.
I still get goosebumps when I am on a run and the wind picks up, blowing hard against my entire body so it feels like I weigh an extra 100 pounds and have to exert that much more energy to try and keep my pace. Losing Dad felt just like that… That I had to push against a constant wind while my body felt 100 pounds heavier. I had to push myself—mind, body, and spirit—that much harder to be present in a world that didn’t freeze when I needed to push pause. A world where college midterms, classes, friendships, relationships, and parties continued around me and I was unsure how to navigate it. I was unsure of how to push myself to wake up in the morning and seize the day that was ahead of me. But, just like on my runs, even when my feet felt like they were sloshing through mud or my shoes were made of bricks, I kept going.
We all keep going.
When the wind picks up and feels stronger than ever, whether we are facing a loss or really any challenge, I remind myself I may have to exert some more energy, but at the end of the day, I just have to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving.
Today I get pumped up when the wind picks up and whips my hair and t-shirt straight behind me because it is my reminder of just how strong I am. My heart cheers, “You go girl!” and before I know it the wind has passed and my stride is at ease.
In life, we will always have challenges, but those challenges are gusts of wind. Sometimes they may be longer than others, but at the end of the day, they are a reminder that we are alive.
