today i'll go for a run
and i’m really nervous about it. not just because i haven’t run for about a year, but because i’m still recovering from an operation and some hip issues.
the last week or two though, i’ve been feeling stronger. my back is stretched out, like an apostate on a rack. my hip aches, but it’s the deep ache of wanting to stride. my wrists are solid, but they’re screaming to swing free.
i’ve been babying myself this last year, and maybe that’s a good thing, but i feel the time has come to get back on the road, literally.
running is a core identity of mine, one i rediscovered during the darkest period of my life. it gave me something to look forward to, made me feel powerful and independent - it gave me agency in times where i felt like i didn’t have any.
working 9 to 5 within set company guidelines, living in a small town where the only escape is to drive an hour by car and where everyone watches everyone - it has created a sense of being in a large, glass jar. i’ve felt like i can’t breathe.
really, i’ve been catching myself more and more often holding my breath, as if i have to conserve oxygen in this jar. a lethargic insect with just enough vegetation and the faint stimulation of a view of a bigger world.
today might be a mistake. i may end up running for a minute and turn back, or just continue on walking. though i may come home after 20 minutes, blissfully catching my wind.
either way, i choose not to be encased. i surrender to myself.