Thankfulness

Had a long run yesterday. 10 miles on isolated beaches. Where I was able to spend some much needed quality time with my thoughts, my fears, my reality, and strip myself naked to myself. Got me in a sharing moment.

To share publically. Something more. Something deeper. Something that I often keep to myself.

It's easy for me to hide behind running. My feelings about running. My pains of running. All without letting anyone in. Without letting the cat peep over the wall into what drives the machine.

I'm a closed person. I dwell in the cave of my mind. Alone. Isolated. Only allowing a part of me to shine through. It's not something that requires empathy, sympathy, care, or concern. It is my choice.

As a Scorpio, I'm an isolationist by nature my grandma would say. Being raised without the option to interact with many others my age during those developing years also contribute. I've always felt more comfortable among the elders. The seniors. Those who I was to be "seen and not heard".

There was this thing that was instilled in me that ended up being a trap of sort. Being raised by that generation that had a real reason to believe that there is safety in pairs and / or groups, ill equipped me to deal with my default mode of being totally comfortable with me. Just me.

I'm thankful of this contradiction which dwells within. It has provided me with an opportunity to grow outside of myself. Provided me with wonderful adventures across the span of many years. Graced me with the presence of some amazing wonderful people who have been incredibly important to me and continue to be so.

For this contradiction ironically provided me with a means to introduce me to running and the community that running brings with it. A social community by far. I'm often surprised by the messages, the comments, the side inspirational quotes, or even strangers checking in on me if I'm absent from the scene or late posting my daily miles.

At times it can be overwhelming for someone like myself who could walk away from social medial, crawl into a corner, and be perfectly okay. Frightening to some extent, yes. But totally okay.

This started out as a way to be positive about changes happening in my life, to list out the things that makes the challenges yet to face in the coming year positive instead of so hurtful. I've been hurting inside for a long time and running has helped with confronting those ills and embracing my aching heart.

I also have a controlling personality and running has assisted with me letting go of the idea to "control" as much of my environment as possible. A.D.D. to minimize personal emotional trauma is what I would liken it as. Running says "fuck you" to control. The weather doesn't bend to will. The body will feel as it feels when it feels for why it feels. The perfect clothing becomes less than ideal. Aches and pains present themselves unexpectedly. The variety of conditions in flux are insurmountable and you have to prepare as much as you can and settle into the run "moment by moment".

Explains why running and specifically trail running has become such a passion. It's an isolationist sport, yet surrounded by many others, requiring dedicated self discipline, spits in the face of control, while mandating intense preparation.

Maybe one day I'll be able to emerge from my cave. My self imposed darkness. Uhhhhh... NOPE. However I'm thankful for the opportunity to grow, to live, to see the world outside of my cave within it's safety with my own eyes.

There's nothing like runs that I had yesterday. I was all alone for a couple of hours without a soul in sight for miles. Afraid. Knowing if there was a medical emergency I was fucked. Yet happy knowing that if I were to die in the moment, my life was whole.

I've had so many runs in the back country, on the streets, in races where life felt so complete. Where I felt totally alone, yet totally present. Despite in cases where thousands of others may be running along side. Time slips by, my senses heighten, and I'm filled with a sense of "Thankfulness."