Dear Running,

You taught me how to hold my spine tall, my head and neck even, how to keep my core tight. You showed me the power that ten little toes can hold, you showed me how to work through frozen fingers and stiff lungs. You taught me the importance of going off the beaten path. “Let’s blaze our own new path,” you whisper, over and over again.

Because of you, for the first time in my life, I realized I was innately good at something. What if I never would have discovered that? What if you never gave me the confidence you’ve been able to give me over the years? You taught me that oops, maybe I actually am a bit competitive (as in - hey 40 year old dude, watch me run quicker than you). You taught me the vital importance of consistency. You exposed the lies I tell myself. I claim I can’t run fifty more steps? You say “Yes, you can. Keep going, girl.” I can’t overcome this pain? You said “You already have, keep going.” I say I can’t do this or that? You say “Watch yourself.”

You’ve shown me the beauty in open fields and dirt roads. You’ve taught me (painfully, mind you) how to tread carefully over gravel - different terrains call for different moves and different speeds, such is life. You’ve shown me the beauty in all hours of the day: “Look how the sun rises in the morning, look how it burns off the cold and the fog. Rise every morning with me and you’ll watch the world shed it’s layers and come alive. The blackness that is night time? Watch how when you run with me at night you won't be able to come down from your high. Watch how the world tucks itself in at night. Be skeptical of that back corner in Forsyth park, but run past Jones Street with your eyes wide, look at the world around you.” You’ve allowed me to lay claim to towns and streets and roads and neighborhoods. You gave me precious moments to myself, moments that have transformed me and shaped me beyond shin splits and meditative breathing and one calf that’s bigger than the other. Without you, I think I truly would have lost my mind years ago. You gave me a safe space to process my never ending thoughts, you gave me something to bond with Brinton over, for which I will thank you daily for. You gave me a place to pour my destructive and self harming energy into. You don’t care if we haven’t hung out together in a week or two, you welcome me back with open arms every single time. You gave and continue to give me life, dear Running, and for that I owe you my life.

Thank you, and I love you with every broken fiber in my being.