In a couple of weeks, I lace up again.
I hit the road and do another solo half marathon.
I have been training for a few weeks now and I can feel the tired, in my legs, at night in my entire body.
I feel the heavy.
And I keep reminding myself how much I love the hateful long runs.
I hate how much I love it and love how much I hate it.
How I hate how much time is spent out there, counting down the miles,
but how much I love the feeling of getting it done.
It's hard, difficult to climb, it's tiring, and it's all self inflicted.
All my life, I have run.
As long as I can remember.
And as young as 8 years old, I knew I was running to be thinner, to look different.
All my life, I spent my time running away...from myself, the situations I was in, from my figure.
All of my life I have been asked to slow down, asked to stop running so hard.
But those that knew me, knew the reason I had to run.
And then I met you, my person.
And I continued to run.
At every turn, I tried to run away from the family you were creating.
But, you wouldn't let me.
You forced me to plant my feet.
And I did, we did.
We settled into couple-hood,
And I still run,
I still race,
I still go too hard.
But now I feel like I am trying to run toward something, not away.
I am running toward health, physical and mental health.
I am running toward proving to my body that we still can do this.
I am running to give MS the middle finger, high and proud.
I am running to prove to our kids that health, and your body, they matter.
I am running toward my own strength, my own determination.
I am running for Anna, to show her that #StrongIsTheNewPretty.
I am running toward our family, the one we waited and wished for.
The one we fight for.
And in less than two weeks, the race, the solo race, it starts early.
It's just me and the road, in our neighborhood.
No music, no chatter, no one to chase, just me.
Finally not running away, but toward our home.