Run Like Hell
"Movement is the best form of medication. Anytime you move, it makes your brain sharper. It makes your mind sharper." (Conon McGregor)
There was a time when I took up running and I was always astonished by how much ground I could cover with my own two feet. Of course, many people have discovered this before me. Humanity has run, walked, and meandered all over... for all of time.
Yet, I was often surprised by how I could start in one place, go go go, and return to where I began. Running taught me to rely on myself, to trust my body, to listen to my intuition. Running was a mirror that revealed parts of me I never knew were there. Running became a time to let my thoughts tumble around in my mind. Sometimes the worst ones would shake out onto the pavement, leaving behind a therapeutic trail of sweat and bad ideas.
There were mornings when I hated running. My angry feet pounded the ground in a clear display of their disapproval. My lungs burned, my head ached, my feet bled. Each quarter mile was a struggle. But I had other experiences that made the hard runs worthwhile. Those magical mornings made me love running. My muscles were spring loaded and my lungs were balloons that lifted my whole body a few inches above the ground. I felt like I could go forever. On and on and on, my thoughts like tiny sparkling pebbles jingling beautifully in my mind.
I stopped running two years ago, a few months into my pregnancy. I dreamt of being one of those women who runs a half marathon at eight months pregnant, but that dream was better left on my pillow. As my belly grew, the physical discomforts of running outweighed the mental benefits. So I trusted my body, listened to my intuition, and started walking instead. I walked and walked and walked, my thoughts clattering around as I navigated our neighborhood. Walking became such an integral part of my pregnancy that on an especially hot summer afternoon, I walked 2 miles and gave birth exactly 12 hours later.
I dreamt of being one of those mamas who loads her baby into the jogging stroller and trains for her next big race. But I still have no desire to run, so I’m leaving that dream on my pillow for now. My baby and I walk and walk and walk through our neighborhood while my thoughts rattle around. Some of the worst ones still shake out like they did during my runs years ago. But I’ve noticed the best ideas bubble up to the surface more easily, maybe because I’m moving much slower these days.
These ideas of mine, the worst and best, the bad and good, the ugly and beautiful, need a new place to go. Instead of hitting the pavement, I am sitting down at my computer, but I am still running like hell. As I let my thoughts spill onto paper, I am reminded that writing is also a good mirror. It can feel scary and hard and leave marks and bruises, but the words can also pour out magically and effortlessly and answer questions I didn’t even know to ask.
Maybe I will look back someday and say, there was this time when I took up writing. Because I am astonished by how much ground I can cover with my thoughts and words. Of course, maybe people have known this truth before me. Humanity has written, rambled, and shared stories all over... for all of time.