Learning to Fly

Running is my vice, the nectar for my soul, the glue that sometimes holds me together. It waits for me, travels with me and is always ready. The draw on the muscles, the labor of the lungs is intoxicating. It has limped through injuries with me and taught my body strength and discipline. Running doesn’t pass judgement – ever – and is just thankful for the time. It provides me solace and joy, teaches me beauty in everyday miracles. When I first laced up my shoes, I learned to fly and have been flying ever since.
  

The thrill captured my heart when I was young, transitioning 9 years ago into something I never could have imagined. My body slowly adjusted, and I began my relationship with distance running. I went from a mile on the dreadmill for a little cardio to running a 62.18 mile ultra. The beginnings were meager at best, proud of myself for completing anything more than once around a block. Looking back, I can see my defiantly sassy self, swearing I would never do anything over a 5K. Oh girl, if you only knew.

Running is a solo activity, calling to me before the sun begins to rise. For the last nine years I have answered that call. When the sky is black and the town is quiet, I lace up and hit the streets. My soul craves the 3:00 am wake-up call, longing to run on empty roads while everyone else is asleep. I yearn for the hours of solitude where I run my town. I don’t have to share my time or space that early. The air is clean and fresh, free from noise and the chaos of a busy day. The darkness, the shooting stars and the wildlife welcome me.  Alone with my music, the vast sky, and my thoughts I fly.  

I have run tens of thousands of miles, gone through hundreds of pairs of shoes and amassed a wall of medals. What means the most, though, are the quiet moments during training runs. Hours of solitude to look internally, seeing parts of myself I never knew existed and deal with parts I knew were there, but would rather leave hidden.

Running reaches into my soul, shapes me and draws me into spaces I would never go otherwise. It gives me moments to pause and feel deeply. In the warmth of summer, warm breezes kissing my cheeks, I revel in joy and new life. During runs when I am freezing, the snow is pounding me and the ice is building on my lashes, I realize the depth of who I am. It has helped me find beauty in the mis-matched parts that are integrally me. It has taught me I am stronger than I ever realized and to look gracefully on myself. I have learned more about myself in those dark miles than any other time in my life.  

In the quiet mornings I feel closer to God. His presence protects me as I navigate black roads and lonely paths. His grace is evident in the miracles of being feet from mountain lions, deer, antelope, and foxes. He paints the dark skies and cheers me on through the twinkle of the stars. I have played tag with the moon, hide and seek with the clouds and sang as the fog rolled in. I have danced in empty intersections and whispered good morning to wildlife. My runs have been blessed with warmth, wind, rain, snow, ice, and beauty, sometimes all in the same run.

Running has taught me persistence, consistency, and determination. My discipline was learned and honed, in pursuit of my goals. Kissing the pavement, I have realized everything is cyclical. There are good and bad days, good and bad runs, and good and bad years.

As I take time off to heal a stress fracture, I think about, the goals and desires I have for my running in the new year. I reflect on what I have learned and the things that need additional work. I am not good at taking time off to give my body time to heal. The desire has been to push myself as hard and as far as I can. I have learned there are consequences to pushing harder when my body is hurt. Moving forward I am striving to make smarter decisions when hurt, even though I am edgy, wanting, desperately needing time on the asphalt when I can’t run.  

Running is joy for me, life and as much a part of who I am as breathing. It has imprinted so much I can’t think of my future without running. The quiet moments, the feeling of getting my body stronger and faster, the ability to set goals, work for them and reach them. It is seeing weekly progress and knowing I have the power to achieve the incredible, by staying focused and working hard. Running speaks to me in a language that paints my soul, heals wounds and incites joy.

In the quiet of my office, with the snow blanketing the ground and whipping through the air outside my window, I think of the opportunities lying before me and the run.  I am thankful. I am thankful for the experience, the strength, the power not only physically, but mentally I have gained. I am thankful for this one aspect of my life that is within my control. My heart jumps to think of another year of asphalt, quiet mornings, and growth. Joy races through my veins for another year to test myself in races and find myself in the early morning miles. Goals are set, shoes are ready, it’s time to fly!