Saturday afternoon I hit the pavement for another leisurely weekend run. I debated with myself about whether to run 8 miles or 10. I finally knew I would go for more in the end, so I set my Nike+ gear for 10 miles and set off, armed with a great playlist full of my favorite running tunes and a happy spirit.
Daffodils and forsythia popped the landscape with a burst of bright yellow color, and I felt like I was floating down the middle of the empty country roads in a Spring dream.
As I neared the 10-mile mark, I knew I wouldn’t be able to go home yet. A little voice said, “Eleven miles completed.” Then twelve. At 12.5, I knew there was no way in hell I was going to stop there, so I completed 13.3 miles – my first ½ marathon.
Nothing ever felt so good.
My runs are teaching me that letting go doesn’t mean I have to figure it all out first. I don’t need answers and explanations. It’s really as simple as breathing. We don’t think about breathing. We just do it. Letting go is like releasing my thumb and forefinger from the string of a balloon and letting it float away. Sometimes the most complicated things are effortless, after all.
The sense of relief and joy I am feeling is unlike anything I’ve ever known.
And more will be revealed…