thoughts on running
and one of my words of the year
It’s Sunday morning. We wake early as is now routine with a new puppy in the house. 6:30 is the new 8:30 weekend sleep in. I make my way down the carpeted stairs to start my day with a pour over (my favorite ritual). I take inventory of my aching muscles as I slowly make my way toward the kitchen - sore in the arches of my feet, ankles, calves, hamstrings, quads, glutes, and some mystery muscles I obviously don’t use very often. Yesterday was the beloved long-run. 10k, or 6.2 miles for those who prefer the imperial system. Not that long for some, but long enough for me to feel it this morning.
McCarren Park on film, Spring 2025
Lately I’ve been reflecting on how I got here. From hating running as recently as four years ago, to now having signed myself up for a half marathon. In high school I convinced several of my friends to try out for the cross country team, convinced my parents to buy me new Nike trainers, and convinced myself that I could not try out because there was no way I could run 5k in a respectable time. (Perfectionism strikes again). My friends all joined the team anyway and I would not find my love of running until I was around the age of twenty-eight.
Saying that I “found a love for running” still makes me wince a little bit. It feels scary to admit any level of commitment or care to a sport that I am not intrinsically good at. This has always been a problem for me - perfectionism can poison every aspect of life and can leave me feeling like I need to be the best at something right away, and if I’m not, why bother? Perhaps this is why running has become hugely important to my inner journey.
When I felt a spark for running at twenty-eight I started viewing my high school running experience through a new lens. I found it laughable that I thought so highly of my high school’s athletic department. For context, my graduating class was made up of about 250 kids and cows were king, not quarterbacks. We were known for our agriculture department, not our sports. In hindsight I can’t believe how seriously I took it all. It made me sad to think that my fear of failure and my need for perfection - even as a kid - prevented me from trying something new.
Running became a small way for me to gain power and control over that fear.
I found joy in running when I let go of my expectations surrounding performance. There were no set distances I needed to run, no certain pace that I needed to maintain. I just needed to get out there and try - and try again, and again.
I have learned that running is an expansive routine.
It’s a one-on-one conversation with yourself every time you show up - or don’t.
It’s a precious moment of time to check-in on yourself physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.
It’s a celebration that you have a living, moving, grooving, breathing, and totally badass body.
It’s learning to listen.
It’s a tune-up.
It’s an opportunity to speak kindly to yourself and to approach your shortcomings with grace.
It’s also an opportunity to gas yourself up and to take stock of all the hard things you’ve learned you can do.
For me, this year is all about doing things wholeheartedly. I love this word because it means, “showing complete sincerity and commitment.” It is a state of mind and a call to action wrapped up in one word. I want it to be true of my relationships, business opportunities, my health, hobbies, and definitely true of my running.
So I’ll take the early mornings and the aching mystery muscles and the weekends organized around the long run - as long as it means I get to keep moving this body of mine - wholeheartedly.