Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on escape.
For the first time since COVID, I walked back into a yoga class.
For the first time since the world stopped spinning, I planted my butt on a mat.
I listened to my breath. And I stretched and melted.
I escaped.
It's early and either hot or cold.
It's just me and Pearl and no music, no podcast. Just the sound of my very awkward feet hitting the road.
You can really hear me breathing, because I'm not a good or strong runner, but I do run.
I escape.
A couple of years ago, I stopped racing. I stopped proving I could do hard things.
So, I started really enjoying a walk.
First thing in the morning, last thing at night, middle of the day walking.
Pearl is actually smiling on these walks, and so am I .
I escape.
Walking into the damn gym, the one with the really loud music.
So damn early, it's still dark out.
Everyone is tired, but everyone showed up.
And the coaches are motivating as hell and you walk out feeling...different.
It's a way to escape.
I guess movement is my escape. It's my mental release.
It's my reminder that I can move, I need to move. My mind needs me moving.
It's how I let go, give up control.
I stop caring about how awkward I look, how wrong ease pose looks, how I don't hold a position correctly, how my body stumbles and my balance is a bit off.
It's fine, I'm here and I'm escaping.
