Run Momma Run - NOT!

 I know that there are people who run- like for fun.  They enjoy this form of exercise.  It is the place where they find their peace, unwind, and become calm to the core of their being. And I don't mean just those folks we see at the Olympics.  Regular folks who do not have to do this because they are seeking the gold or, say, in the military.

I even know some of these runners personally.  I can appreciate their need to break free and Go.  But for as long as I can remember, my motto has been: I don't run unless my life is in danger - and even then it would really depend on the day.  I would actually weigh the odds on my ability to survive. Seriously!  I know I am slow to start and won't make it that far!

In elementary school, I wanted to run.  I envied the "fast girl."  In my class, her name was Chrissy, and boy was she fast!  Petite, cute, and legs like lightning.  We would cheer her on as the boys would challenge her speed and oftentime lose.  I wanted that speed.  But long lanky legs and quite a few coordination snafus made that but a dream.

In my teen years, I learned to run in different ways, perfecting it through college. Running in ways that at the time protected my being but also compromised me in turn.  I guess that's why I weigh the odds even today, if even jokingly. Eh- I have survived this long, I surely can do so without actually running for real.

Now don't get me wrong, I have found many ways, healthy ways, to escape the stress, zone in to my physical and mental needs, and not all of that is sexual.  Kidding not kidding.  (My hubby just cringed!)

In my twenties I biked.  I don't want to say I was a cyclist, because it was far less serious than all that but the freedom and the speed were glorious.  The time to be alone, be quiet, and just embrace my thoughts or lack thereof became my new, healthier form of running. I biked to work, to the grocery, and even all throughout the countryside when we moved to the Low Country (much to the shagrin of the men at the Country Store who could not believe my husband at the time would "LET" me do so).  

My love for biking has ebbed and flowed depending on life's comical way of upsetting the best laid plans. But that has yet to stop me from seeking out that run, my escape.

In my thirties, it was zumba, weight training, and a personal trainer who kicked my butt twice a week. And while that may sound far from fun or even therapeutic, it was bliss for me.  It reminded me of my strength, my ability to overcome obstacles, and even my worth.  Somewhere, beginning back long before I ever envied the speed and beauty of Chrissy, I came to realize that the crux of my inner need to run was far deeper than a desire to simply be a runner.  Was  I really just running from myself or from others?  I am sure Freud and Erikson have plenty to say on that. But I digress. 

I actually was running all of my life, looking for something inside that was yet to be revealed or that I had tucked away from my conscience.  The knowing that I never actually needed to run.  The knowing that there was never anything from which I needed to hide.  The knowing that I was enough, no matter what, and somewhere out in the universe, there were people who would see that and want me to be me no matter what that being revealed.

I spent the later part of my thirties, and most of my forties, slowing that running feeling. And to my suprise, the best insult I ever received, from someone who helped me supress who I was meant to be, was simply " You are sure starting to act like that girl in high school!"  And, it was true.  I was reverting back to the very old me, the one who was not totally lost and feigning to be someone that she wasn't.  I was unearthing the me I was meant to be. And I attribute that to my kids, a handful of true friends, and God.  

When you begin to see that your kids are running like you have modeled, it is a huge slap in the face.  When you find that you have people in your life that love you and do not run from you despite your worst days, your mistakes, and things that you used to keep unsaid, it is eye opening.  And when you begin to put your faith in something more than your false narratives, something that can be a calming knowing force in your life, you begin to feel like you can fly and no longer need to run.

Today, I am in my fifties, and while at times I find myself reverting back to the runner I once was, I am  most at peace just being. There is nothing left to run from but so much left to embrace, enjoy, and appreciate.  That is how I choose to spend the rest of my time.

PS- If you ever see me running, remind me that there is nothing to fear that needs to be run from.  Remind me to stop, take a deep breath, and face the lion that chases me so that I can see that it is but an illusion.