Sunday, May 10, 2015

Run Forest Run


I would by no means call myself a runner. But I run. I run like my life depends on it, because I kinda think it does. I am not graceful, or fast. I can't run really far compared to some, and can not run up hills. But I run. I run because it's FREEDOM. I run because it kinda hurts but that feels right. I run because it feels like running away, and that feels good. I run because I can be all alone, I can turn my music as loud as it can go (which is never loud enough to fill every space I want it to), and I can push myself, clear my head, LET IT OUT. With every huff and puff I can let it out.

 I resisted running for a long time, knowing I wouldn't be great at it. I've never really taken things on, or added them to my repertoire, unless I knew I would be great at them. Maybe it's because I'm a first born, Scorpio, perfectionist, Type A nut ball? I was never really one to try stuff and give myself time to learn it and grow. I was either good at it or I wasn't...and if I wasn't good at it...I wasn't doin' it and you couldn't make me. I've never been an athlete.  I've never really liked running. I knew I wasn't going to step outside in my new Nike running shoes and visor and run like the wind. So I didn't do it.

But then there came a time...I would try anything. Anything for some relief, for an escape, for some time for just me and the girl inside. I didn't reeeallly want to become a wino, or start smoking again. (Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy Mamma's grape juice but didn't want to use it as a vice or an escape, as easy as that would be). I wasn't reeaallly gonna run away. I truly do love my man tribe, and even miss them when I'm away for too long. But I was going to implode if I didn't find some small thing to ease the pent up frustration. I had a couple of friends that had started running in the last couple of years. They seemed so relaxed. Like they had a new perspective on life as a mom and wife. Not to mention, they looked GOOD. This Mamma isn't getting any younger. It wouldn't be a bad thing to get some exercise and start toning this body up. Before long it would be too late and my butt cheeks would be down to the back of my knees.

So, I did it. I got myself some new snazzy shoes, downloaded a running app onto my phone, and went running. Well, it was kind of running, then walking, then running, then dying. It was hard. I couldn't breath and my feet felt like cement blocks. I sucked. My usual self would've given up the first day realizing I was a disaster, I wasn't good at this. But I refused. I kept doing it. I can only imagine what people thought as they drove by me. Running so slow it was barely more than walking. But I kept going.

I fought my natural tendencies to quit and I learned something. I learned something HUGE and it only took me almost 40 years on this earth to learn it. I don't have to be great at something to do it. I can look like a huffing and puffing, out of shape, midlife crisis mom runner to the rest of the world, and I can still keep going. I don't have to quit.  It 's time for me to learn to do what feels good inside. To do things that keep me alive, that make me feel strong. That help me to clear my head and to adjust my perspective. Sometimes I leave the house, music already blaring (probably Prince), and I am on a mission. A mission to release the anger I feel toward my kids for giving me such heartache over homework and not hearing a word I say. To release the frustration I feel about there being too much laundry all the time and not enough food in the fridge. To release the loneliness that creeps in because I'm the only female in house so filled to the brim with testosterone.

So I run. I run away. And as I round the corner, back to my little house at the end of the cul de sac, I am home, back to where I belong. I always come back. I always will.  <3


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