A million interpretations

My body was tired. It was a late night at work with a long day ahead of me. But I dragged my body out of bed and into the cold fall morning to meet a group of people at Chestnut Ridge Park. The predawn run was about four miles and included the locally infamous hill known as “Mother.” Technically, I’m still in recovery from my half marathon binge, but my legs are feeling good and my overall energy is pretty good, though my body has been taxed with life stresses this week. More importantly, my mind needed the pre-dawn run.

I wore no watch. There was no Garmin. I didn’t care about pace. I didn’t plan anything specific. Sometimes running is all about training, about the body and the mind. Today, running was all about my soul. I needed to connect that creative part of me, the part that hears the whispers of different possibilities. I needed to remember that each day, I get to create my own story. I get to choose how I view my challenges and my successes. Only I can define and decide what is true for me. And there’s a sense of calm and confidence that comes from that position.

This is why I run — to open myself up to different interpretations and get off the limited ones I’ve been stuck on.


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