I ran today

I ran today.

I ran today for the first time in months. It was a bittersweet reunion with my body. I could feel my skin sweeping the top of my running pants, my belly heavy with the side effects of grief's indulgences. I am so well padded from the pain now. My own self destruction parralleling my sister's. I don't know when I start eating for comfort but clearly it's not working. I am not comforted. And now I've gotten fat to boot. Perfect.

I started to cry two feet out of my door. It felt like I was leaving my sister behind to start running again. It was as if to say "If you're not coming, I'm leaving you".  All those months of getting up at 6am and pushing aside the temptation to push the snooze button - praying for my sister to be able to quell her temptations with mine. I could run 7km every morning and barely break a sweat. I ran 3 km today - scratch that - I walked most of it - with my tears falling and my nose stuffy and painful. The wind kept throwing itself down my throat trying to block my even rhythm. It made me feel so pathetic. I desperately searched through my ipod to find Cold Play - Fix You. And I just dragged my body along to the words:

When the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse

And there it was.

All those wasted months of running - hoping she would get better. I felt so pissed off to be starting over again, barely able to get around my block, grateful for the icy patches so I could slow down and step over them. So I could stop running because it hurt so bad to be running for nothing now. 

And I cried for 2 km.

Maybe it was the ipod selection right? Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to be running to sad, "rip your heart out" songs. So I changed it. I put on my work-out folder and I started running. It was slow, like it should be when you're training. Not clumsy and aching for breath like when I started. I could feel my ass sliding into my thights for the first 2km. I took slower, surer steps and I got my rhythm. I know this isn't rocket science but it felt like a miracle. I ran my last km all the way to my door. I knew I could have kept running but I slowed down and stretched out my calves and I sat on my door step and cried some more. 

Something about running makes me strong and hopeful, even when I don't want it to. I have evaded my most direct path to mental health for 4 months because I simply have not wanted to feel good. It seems ridiculous for your body to be strong and healthy when your heart is breaking. It actually seems impossible. But I'm falling. I miss my sister so much. I miss me. I miss who I used to be and what I used to believe. I miss how clear my thoughts were after a run, how proud and full of grace that sweat on my forehead could make me. 

I want it to be that easy - I would sacrifice my comfort for her. I will take the cracked heels and the black toe nails I get from running. I will wear a brace to hold my knee together when I have pushed it to far. I will sweat and wheeze and push through the pain every day if she will just get better. That's fair right? That seems so fair to me but it just doesn't work that way. I will run and sweat and suffer for me. I will get stronger, my mind will get sharper, my body will look sleeker and slimmer. People will applaud me and say "good for you" and lament on their own exercise will power. People will notice how good I look. I will sleep better. I will have more energy. I can get better. And I will leave my sister behind. And she will get further and further behind as I run faster and farther. Because I can. Because there is nothing in my brain that stops me from being well.

What a double edged sword these running shoes present. 

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." 

(The above speech by Nelson Mandela was orignally written by Marianne Williamson)

So I will run again tomorrow. Liberation sounds pretty good to me.