So I went for a run...

I was angry, so I went for a run. And things got better.
I was confused, so I went for a run. And things got better.
I was exhausted, so I went for a run. And things got better.
I was lost, unsure, empty, afraid. Certain that whatever was left of my sanity had snapped, had come untethered and floated away, to a place so high and remote that I would never see it again, and that even if I did, I wouldn't recognize it.
So I went for a run. And things got better.
I felt like things could not possibly get worse, so I went for a run. And things got better.
(Another time, I felt like things could not get much better. I went for a run. Things got much better.)
After enough miles, over enough runs and enough years, I realized: No matter what, no matter when, or where, or why, I can find my shoes and go for a run and things will get better.
And that realization? Just knowing that?
It made things better.

Mark Remy, Runners World



I woke up feeling out of sorts today. I thought, "I need to go for a run."
My heart was sad about the loss of a friend/client yesterday.
My body was tired from a few fitful night's of sleep...and disturbing dreams.
And my brain was reeling with the things that always plague it...I need more business to keep this career going. I need to contribute more financially to my family. Maybe I should go back to a full-time desk job. Maybe I'm not working to my potential?

"I really need to go for a run," I thought.

I was up before daylight to work with clients. When I returned home I thought, "I'm not myself. I really need
a release. I need to run."

But it's raining...and if I don't run, I have a few hours to sit with a cup of coffee...relax.

"No. You need this. You don't have to run hard or far, but you need to run."

So I put my running clothes on. I looked at the couch and the cozy blanket that called my name.

"Just get to the trail," I told myself. "Put yourself in the woods. At least do that much."

So I did. I ran the half mile to the woods. And then I kept going.

As I ran I grieved the loss of my friend. I thought about how unfair it was that her life was so short. She was only a few years older than me.

I thought about my business, and what I could do to make it better.

I ran harder. I shed my layers so I could feel the cool morning air hitting my skin. No Garmin, no music--not even a water bottle. Just me in the woods. I smiled at the few others on the trail. Even though they were strangers, I knew they were kindred spirits.

After I had run a few miles, I started thinking about what an amazing woman my friend was. No matter what horrible things happened in her life, she was filled with positive energy. And, oh my gosh, was she a fighter. And because of a transplant a few years back, she was able to meet and spend time with all of her grandchildren. She was an awesome mom who loved her kids so much. She knew that her life might be cut short, but she didn't let that stop her from living.

Then as I continued to run, the tears stopped.  I thought about what a lucky person I am. I'm 43 years old, and I have no health problems. I'm out here running. Sure, I've had some injuries this year, but both times I was back on that trail within a month. Running the runs she will never get to do.

I have a loving husband who supports me so much. Because of him, I've been able to choose this career. I have the choice to keep trying to make it work (or not, if that's my choice). And I live in a beautiful house that's a half mile from this trail. This trail that makes living in a town...in a state--where I don't feel like I quite belong--home.

As I made it to my favorite part of the trail by the stream, I stopped thinking so much. I noticed how beautiful it was outside--the colorful leaves, the sound of the water in the stream, the fog--even the mud puddles. I kept running, feeling my spirit lift--knowing this was my higher power. My medicine.

When I left the woods, I allowed myself to walk the half mile home. Spent. Purged. But refreshed.

I woke up this morning feeling not like myself, so I went for a run.

It didn't bring back my friend. It didn't solve my problems. But it made me look at the world in a new light--at least until the next run.