I started running 18 years ago. I was getting ready to start high school and there wasn't a fall sport I was interested in playing. My mom encouraged me to try cross country. I remember telling her how boring it seemed. But, with her insistence, I went to the first practice.
I was hooked.
I learned how competitive my spirit can be. I learned how tough I was. Running the 3.2 mile races with a fury. An intensity that allowed me not to notice blood dripping around my ankles which got cut from the spikes on my shoes. I learned to run through the pain of pushing my body to the limits. I learned that after the pain, came peace. The pain only weakness leaving my body.
My best 5k time was under 19 minutes and 48 seconds.
Running has been like a friend. A friendship that has endured three knee surgeries; one reconstructive which required hours of intense and sometimes painful physical therapy. A friendship that's returned after each of my pregnancies. A friendship that I took with me to college, to Germany, to New Jersey and now to Ohio. When I travel, I always look at the area and think about how much I would love to run there. I suppose like how a chef would like to experience the flavors of a local restaurant, I like to experience the sights, sounds and smells while running.
Running has been therapeutic. I've run in tears; grieving something/someone lost. I've run in joy; celebrating.
When I stressed, I run. I turn the music up loud in my ears, drowning out my fears/concerns.
I don't know if I'm running away from a problem or towards the answer. But somehow, by the end of my run, I feel lighter.
When I run, I connect with myself.
We don't know for certain our next move in the spring. We don't know for certain if we will have to endure a year of separation while Ryan completes a short tour (12 month assignment overseas) or will we uproot our family and move across the world for two years. Either way, we will need to prepare the boys.
And so, I run.
