Running Home

Me and the girls pre-race in the Windy City last October.

It’s been months since I had that nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. At least since last spring when I fell in love with another, one with more lightness and speed. The new Specialized carbon 12-speed bike easily took the place of my worn out Brooks running shoes, now crammed in the shadows of my closet. Those old shoes had seen some action, but frustrated by too many years of low-back pain, I’d traded them in. And in the process, started learning about cycling, a sport I’d always enjoyed – in a brand new way.

As spring turned to fall and the leaves became too much of a slipping hazard on my bike, I wondered “what I was going to do to stay strong?” For the past few winters, I had trained my body (and brain) to run outside. Something that I never felt was possible given that the harsh winters of Northern Michigan had always triggered my asthma. Over time, I found that combining my practice of hot yoga with intermittent winter runs was the perfect blend to keep my mind-body-spirit fit.

So, I (subconsciously) took a couple of months off of exercising. And started reading. Everything I could get my hands on. Books that had been loaned to me months ago. Magazines I don’t subscribe to. And newspapers and online forums that filled me with information about both local and international affairs.

And then, it got cold. And I got cold. That’s when I realized it was time to get back into hot yoga. For the more than 12 years I’ve been practicing, this year is the first that I’ve actually fallen asleep (in a 110-degree heated room) prior to class. It’s also the first year that I’ve disappeared into my practice. If you’ve heard runners talk about the “high” and how you can run through anything, it’s a similar experience in yoga. Only difference is, for me, it’s as if I just disappeared for 90-minutes, in a 110-degree room, with 30 of my closest friends. And when the final shavasana takes place, I reappear sweaty and exhausted.

Slowly, I eased myself back into a yoga practice that felt comfortable. But something was still missing. And I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, until I picked up a book titled “Born to Run” under the auspices that it was a gift for my husband, whose early-morning runs with our German shepherd puppy were the justification I needed. “It’s not for me” the voice in my head pounded. “After all, I’m not running anymore.”

Finishing “Born to Run” yesterday morning I was left with a deep sense of longing. Even though I’d previously signed up for New Year’s Day hot yoga (one of my favorite classes of the year) I just couldn’t shake the desire to pull out the old Brooks and hit the trail.

“Why fight it?"

The first step out and I am a bundle of nerves. I flashback to a blind date that a friend of mine set me up for when I was in 8^th grade. I wasn’t allowed to date (or drive) so the whole thing was a covert operation. My Mom thought I was going to the movies with an older friend (which I was). What she didn’t know was that my friend Anne was bringing her boyfriend and a Senior-guy from another school. Leaving the house that night to rendezvous I had that same nervy, woozy, adrenaline-stoked feeling. But this time, my approach was completely different. After all, I’ve been running, on-and-off for more than three decades. I made quick work of my reintroduction and the anxious-wooziness in my belly faded into an easy stride. With a little rock-and-roll music, I was back on track.

Three miles flew by in a blink. Before I knew it, I was rounding the trail, heading back to the “finish line” the spot where I’d dropped my fleece vest and promised myself that once I arrived there, I’d walk the last half mile home. I stopped. Pulled on my vest, walked a few steps and still felt the desire to run. So I did.

I jogged home smiling and feeling like I was glowing from the inside out.

“Ahhhh, I remember this, I thought. It’s what I’ve been missing. The afterglow. And what I’ve also come to recognize is the cozy feeling of “being home.” It’s not somewhere else. It’s right here inside me. And it’s been with me forever.”