The Moon That Morning

It seems I’m at the age now where time becomes a bit of a blur. I can’t remember exactly how long ago it was, but my best guess would be about 15 years ago when I made my first attempt at becoming a runner.

I was a martial arts student, and everyone seemed to be in such good condition. Some of my fellow classmates ran so I thought maybe I should run too. One evening when I wasn’t in my martial arts class, I walked from my apartment to a dirt track that surrounded a soccer field in Riverside Park in the center of the funky college town where I lived.

I knew nothing about running, but I had read that doing some running then walking then running then walking again was a good way to start. I followed this same course of action for several weeks. I remember thinking how hard it seemed for me, especially as I’d see “real” runners gliding by.

One evening while I was on that track doing my laps one such runner passed me, and as he did so, he said, “Keep up the good work.”

I had never seen him before, and I’m pretty certain I never saw him again. Clearly his encouraging words stayed with me.

Eventually I did it; I became a runner. I have completed four half marathons, about 6 10ks – which was my favorite distance to run actually but rarely is the distance included on race schedules, and more 5ks than I can remember.

The last time I completed an event as a runner was in 2016 when I coached the Heart and Sole program at our middle school here in town. I ran the Girls on the Run 5k with the team, and ran it well. Since that time injuries have caused me to get into a cycle of taking a break then returning to running. Each time the break has had to be longer, and the comeback has been increasingly more difficult.

It was sometime last year when I decided I would not make the attempt at another comeback.
Whether runners tell people that we’re running a 5k or a marathon, many people think we’re a little bit crazy. Often times people think that running causes injuries, and while I just shared my story of my time as a runner coming to an end due to injuries, many people run injury free or nearly injury free well beyond my 45 years of age.

I continue to exercise regularly and have found strength training to be somewhat helpful in replacing that feeling that I got from running, but really, nothing can replace what I got from running.

Not only is the “runner’s high” a real thing, but it is also a metaphor for life that, at this point in my grieving process for my lost sport, I cannot seem to find a completely suitable replacement.

Whether we feel like running 10 miles or not, we get it done. The interesting thing is that sometimes if it was a rough run, it’s almost more rewarding. It means that we were tough enough to make it through – to overcome the adversity. Of course we love those days when we feel like we could run forever, but most days are neither completely hard nor completely easy; they are just more miles logged, another training run completed.

Another thing running gave me besides a sense that I could do almost anything when I completed my runs was the time to be, to think, to sort it out, to listen, to hear, to cry, to dream.

There is something so refreshing about the rhythm of the run, about hearing your feet contact the pavement on a quiet morning before the world has started to wake up, or there was something so freeing about putting it all out there after a hard day.

It has been several months since I made the decision that I wasn’t going to attempt another comeback. I thought I had sorted it all out and was okay with it, but the sense of loss has crept back in. So as I sort it out again, I think about what I’ve lost, but I also think about what I’ll never lose that running gave to me, primarily the friends that I’ve made because I became a runner.

Often I ran on the treadmill; it was easier on my beat-up body. But I also ran outside a fair amount in the early days of my running journey.

My alarm went off around 6:15 for my run early one autumn morning. I laid in bed for a couple of minutes deciding whether or not I really wanted to go out there before I eventually decided to get up and go do it.

I left our house and turned left on to a short part of the street that led to the main road. Across from that little intersection is an area that is filled with trees and natural growth. Just above the trees I saw the biggest, most round moon I had seen in quite some time. It was a stunning white light glowing against a midnight blue background.

As I made my way around the city I enjoyed the moon until, and even after, the sun made its way into the sky.

Later that morning when I went to write my post on the private Facebook page where many of my running friends and I used to connect daily, I saw that I wasn’t the only person to see that amazing moon. My “Running Women” friends from much of the east coast had enjoyed the same experience on their morning runs. The connection that we shared during that run, though many miles apart, was marvelous.

As I move on from my time as a runner, I think of the line from the song “What I Did for Love” from A Chorus Line that says, “The gift was ours to borrow.” For me, that appears to be true, but the friendships and the memories are ours to keep.

Expectations and the Everyday

It was those days when I could run barefoot on the soft, green grass out to a swing where I’d jump on and fly away in the sun for what seemed like hours on end. I’d daydream about all of the fabulous things I’d do with my life, either in the immediate future or “one day.”

Those were some of the most carefree days of my life. School was out for the summer, and the biggest inconvenience was having to come in to set the table for dinner.

As an adult, I sometimes, or honestly, often long for that carefree feeling. I expect most of us as adults do, otherwise there would be fewer songs about Friday nights and weekends, less intense searches for generous vacation packages from employers, and no countdown to retirement calendars or clocks, one of which sits before me – a gift from my husband’s colleagues.

My job is budgeted for 19.5 hours a week, yet my husband recently pointed out that I invest about 60 hours of emotional energy into it. A change in management means I went from being given autonomy and then some by the department chair that hired me to having to get approval for even a simple email by a micromanaging administrator in another department.

Along with my mentor I was able to start a new initiative on campus, however my current manager has decided that she has the power to interfere with my being involved because, while this initiative will benefit the campus community as a whole and may even lend support to the department specified goal of retention and graduation, it does not directly benefit her department as she sees it.

My work tale of woe is just one example of the freedom that we can feel like we lack as adults, and work is a very common example of an area of unrelenting servitude in adulthood.

Who hasn’t wanted to be like the fictitious Anna Baker who, after failed attempts to get her boss to notice her talents, knock the phone off the desk and walk out the door to start Baker Architects in a currently running commercial. That “take this job and shove it” mindset rings true with nearly every working American at times.

If you’re one of the fortunate ones who does truly enjoy your work, you certainly have other things in your life that seems to pull at your freedom, young children, school-aged children, teenagers, aging parents, debts, decisions…the list can be long and the items on it are many.

The reality is that even with all of our responsibilities and frustrations many of our days are neither all that bad nor all that stellar. They are just days, and for the most part that’s a good thing.

Often when something major happens during a day, it’s not good. It’s the phone call from school to come pick up a sick kid or the phone call that a relative is on the way to the hospital or the boss calling a meeting to share the news about significant changes coming.

Even the “good” big things can take away some of the laid back feelings we had hoped they would give us. If you’ve ever planned a major event like a weeding, you know how true that is.

Rethinking the expectation that a day has to be a fabulous and unforgettable day to make it a good one can make those everydays some pretty good days.

It’s on those days that we can take the time to enjoy the not-so-little things that give us back a bit of that carefree feeling that we want and need as adults.

I’ve often thought about going out in the evening when the park behind our house is empty of kids, kicking off my shoes, and jumping on a swing again. I think that when the world thaws out I’ll do it.