Saturday, October 04, 2008

My Therapist's Name is New Balance

About a year ago, I was stretching on my yoga mat. Not doing yoga. And I started to cry. There I was, all alone, a weeping mess on my living-room floor. The tears had absolutely nothing to do with my hamstrings; rather, in that moment of quiet, my life just ran over me. And I couldn't articulate it enough to share with anyone. I was insecure, terrified of the unknown. And everything was unknown.

Fast-forward to today.

I went for a jog. And I started laughing. I was huffing and puffing and beaming from ear to ear like a little kid with a head full of secrets and a stomach full of candy. But I don't eat candy before physical exertion. I'm not a fan of pain.

I was trying to write earlier in the day, but only half-sentences made it onto the page. I was scattered, distracted and exhausted. So I laced up my cross-trainers and headed out the door. Maybe it was the fresh air. Or the music. Or the quiet residential streets. But suddenly my head was clear. I ran longer, faster and farther than I have since high school, practically skipping at times, totally free.

The odd thing is that so little has changed since last year's meltdown. Almost every area of my life has a large question mark floating over it. But today I was reassured of something I've been suspecting for some time: I am no longer afraid.

1 comment:

michael lewis said...

I run on Asics.

However, when I type "run", this doesn't typically mean what it infers.

My therapist would better be ascribed as Shimano, the manufacturer of my cycling shoes.