I Was Runnninnnng

There’s a counseling sentiment at the start of sessions that goes, “I don’t have anything to talk about,” and 99.9% of the time, it’s false.

Of course, we have things to talk about. The internal world is a circus on crack cocaine, spinning like a top on the tip of a monkey’s finger — spring-loaded with thoughts, feelings, memories, hopes, and dreams, with only a sprinkling of “nothing much.”

I push the gas pedal on writing — c’mon, c’mon, c’mon — as if I have a dance number ready to perform on command.

I don’t.

And what I’m really after is the quiet. The space. The trust that the right words will come.

I think it was easier to write when I was younger. Before expectations, benchmarks, and standards. Before Facebook distractions. Before inviting other to-dos into my writing space (at least I don’t think I did). Back then, I could be the whole page. Spill onto the next and the next. I didn’t want to be contained, so I wasn’t.

I’d blossom and bubble over like perfectly warmed yeast. Eyelash-kiss the stars. Float like a feathery dandelion seed on the breeze.

I let that eager zest for treasure be my guide. Like the best friend, it was always there — knocking at my door, begging me to come play.

There’s a tinge of sadness in remembering. Regret, too. For the times I said no. For the masks and the drama. For not knowing what I didn’t know — for lacking the life experience hindsight now hands me so freely.

Sometimes I worry I’m self-absorbed. And sometimes, I don’t.

I ran 2.30 miles today. Actually ran. I’ve been saying I “go on a run,” and that means I run until I want to walk, and then I do.

But after talking with a runner — one who doesn’t walk — they nudged me to try it differently. Slow down if needed. Turn it into a bouncy, steady jog instead of quitting.

So I did.

For two days straight, I’ve run. I start at the slowest of slow — a 13-minute mile — and by the last stretch, I’m trotting at a 9- to 10-minute pace.

I can run, and now I don’t have to feel dishonest saying I’m a runner.

I can’t yet run far, by any means.

But I am running. And for that, I’m stoked.

Love, Jaclynn