This is how I felt before my long run on Wednesday:

So sleepy

So sleepy

I was sleepy.

And also my stomach was saying, “Oh hey, remember Taco Tuesday?!”

My phone had been (and would continue) to blow up all morning with work stuff. So I sat down and ate a simple breakfast to handle the work stuffs and settle my stomach:

Oatmeal, coffee, water

Oatmeal, coffee, water

Trying to maintain 5 miles at a specific pace with a dog who is limited to 1.5 miles (owner-placed limitations) and must be taken home, is difficult. So, I promised Oakley a walk later that day (which bit me in the butt when I finally got home from work at 8:30PM in the evening…klsdjgljkglj).

Hey ma, are these running shoes?

Hey ma, are these running shoes?

Despite the promise, he was still howling and waking up the household as he watched me out the front window of the house.

As I’m doing my warm-up walk, I realize: this plan is intense. Second run, and I’m running 5 miles at race pace?

My doubtful face

My doubtful face

But oh my goodness.


3 miles feels like a chore — a couple laps around the park and then you go home.

5 miles? Guys, 5 miles and I’m launched into this transcendental state known as running.

It’s this beautiful place, where it’s just my legs, my heart, and my brain.

My job, family, house, and self-imposed requirements — they all demand from me. They demand my time, attention, love, dedication.

But running is mine.

My legs take me in circles — I never get far from home. But with perpetual forward movement, I’m given the opportunity to dwell. I dwell in my body, in my heart, in my mind.

What do I find there?

I find stillness.

I find joy.

I find energy.