Run for your life...

In the wee hours of the morning, when I'm the last in line, running the trail, I'm not sure where I'm going, and I've soaked my shirt in sweat, I tell myself I'm not sure. I'm not sure if things might not be easier once I stop trying to run. I'm not sure I'm a morning person. I'm not sure this is helping me sleep better at night. I'm not sure I'll ever lose weight. I'm not sure I can actually run a mile without wheezing. I'm not sure I enjoy this. I'm not sure I can keep going. I'm not sure my legs will carry me. I'm not sure if I'm pushing too hard. I'm not sure if I'm just afraid. I'm not sure when, or if, this gets easier. I'm not sure why I'm doing this anymore. I'm not sure I'm anymore a part of this team than I once was. I'm not sure I'll ever be a running gazelle.

I tell myself I'm not sure until its the loudest voice I've ever heard. Then something weird happens. I keep running and it shuts up, I follow the turn in the trail, and I round the next bend.  

A tiny voice in my head tells me that I've made a wild, out-of-the-box completely unpredictable decision. When people pose the question, 'what would you do if you weren't afraid', I now have an actual answer. I chose to run with Gilbert Tuhabonye. If you don't know him he's an Olympian. I chose to run with Gilbert not because he was a skilled runner but because I believed in the community he built around running. I believe in why he runs, and while he hasn't convinced me to love the actual running part just yet, today he is the reason I run.

The truth is Austin sometimes seems unsurmountable, it's how growing cities work, I see unfamiliar faces and I forget who I know. The world suddenly starts to seem, big, huge, gigantic, it's a Moby Dick novel swallowing me whole. I come to the surface unsure. Then someone runs by that I recognize, they're in my running class, I see someone with a Gazelle shirt ahead of me on the trail, I take a step forward, and then another, and then another, and before I know it, I'm running again.

Lesson #59: The world is smaller than you think