Beginning Again

A little over a year ago, I decided to quit the gym. Month in and month out, I had gotten on the literal and figurative treadmill, staring out the window at all types of weather, wondering what I was doing inside.

It was longer than I would like to admit before I realized how little my time in the gym was serving me. I wasn't getting stronger, faster or leaner. I was simply spending time, giving myself the pat on the back for doing what I 'ought to,' without any direction or purpose.

Fortunately for me, my time at the gym came to an end for a myriad of reasons, and, much like many other decisions I give myself the credit for in hindsight, it was out of my hands.

So, about a year ago, I began running. Outside.

Truth be told, what motivated me most was a crazy-making energy that collects all too easily in my system. Driven by pure anxiety, I was forced into a blustery winter in an attempt to quiet my torturous inner dialogue, no longer wondering what I was doing inside.

The runs were few and far between at first. I would walk most of the way and break into short-lived jogs as I was able. It took me spring, summer and fall to work up to my first race, 5k celebrating Veteran's Day this past October.

A full year and a handful of races later, nearly every time that I go out to run, it still feels like I am getting back to it after a hiatus. Like I am a beginner, or that I have been away too long.

I am coming to understand that maybe, the identity of being 'A Runner' is fleeting, even for the best of them. Maybe other identities that are worth aspiring to are as well. A never-ending series of getting back to it.

So, here I am. A writer. Not in perpetuity, but in this moment. Getting back to it.

Cheers to coming back. Again, and again.