Close your eyes, and image ME, all 170 pounds of me, RUNNING through the forest. Wearing black leggings and pink running shorts, white T-shirt. It's pretty terrifying, isn't it. (PS, it's daytime)
I've started to run during lunch, to avoid actually running away from my current position. It's like I'm pretending to make my break for freedom...but really I am.
Today I started out slow but I immediately start to feel better when the path narrows, and I have to kind of duck down under the trees... That spot, that space is so perfectly ALIVE that it makes me feel alive again too. That's where I take off running. The first time, I ran like an old man with bilateral knee replacements, but the second time I loosened it up a little- longer strides, looser hips. That felt Great!
There is something about running a tiny trail that is so different from running on a track or a street or a park. Today I figured out why. When I run, I literally run through the thick of it. I'm actually running through it,in my mind and on the path-
About 5 minutes in, it all starts to come together. I can think. I can hear myself think. I can hear myself think.
And everything with the boss and the manager and the relationships that are working and the relationships that aren't working, they are all there moving with you. And somehow they all make more sense.The cards start to shuffle themselves. Lies and anger and fear and fatigue. Family and Friends and kids... At one point today, I was in the clearing, moving pretty quickly, but certainly not gracefully- I rolled my ankle, and threw my arms out to the side for balance. I continued to run this way, arms flapping in the breeze for a minute and I thought of all the little kids that run like that, specifically, our awesome friend Rook. Today I learned that if your ankles are weak, running with your arms out helps a lot. But more importantly, I remembered that it FEELS SO GOOD! So I kept on going, arms flailing like broken wings, running the path around the lake. This made me laugh, which then made me cry. I wish I had an image for you .
Then I came to the part where the lake meets the river, where I have to be very careful not to slip and fall and look like an idiot. While I was cautiously crossing, I recalled the story that Maria told at Jewish New Year Dinner the night before. She said that once a year they make amends. They take bread to the water, and let it go, releasing all the bad business so that you can go in to the new year at your very best.
I REALLY like the idea of LETTING IT GO. I don't know about bread as a vessel, but whatever.
I know I'm not really in with the big guy, but I like to think that-as with any strong- willed stubborn child there is also a great deal of charm in my resistance. Maybe he'll keep me around anyway.
So, I'm learning to let go. Everyday at lunchtime you can find me, flapping my arms like a child, laughing or crying- but please don't bother me, because this is really serious work. I'm not sure what I'm going to use, but I'm going to fill that lake with everything that I carry that I know I shouldn't carry. When I come out of the woods, I come out a little bit more of who I really am. I can't wait to see who wins.
I am grateful for my weak ankles and my arms that make great wings. I am Grateful for the Blue Heron that Screams at me everyday when I scare him away. I am grateful that our Buddy Rook has not abandoned what looks "normal" for what feels great and make you laugh so hard you fall over and cry.
I'm Grateful for Maria, and her Religion that is so different, but has brought me this one thing that I KNOW will help me so much in the next few months.I am Grateful to find out that I can change they way I feel by just being outside with all of the energy that's out there. I am not a runner. I'm a TRAIL runner.
You will see.
