Run like you stole it.

Once upon a time, I almost quit at 29 minutes.

When I was creating my vision and goals worksheet at the end of the 2012 year, I never thought I'd be doing more editing, exceeding and expanding than I've marked up on my letter-sized, printed piece of paper. 
My method of urgency is simple. Few things keep me more at ease than seeing something written with a 'by-when' and scratching a thick dark line through the task that same day. 

I'm not a runner. I don't look pretty when I run like the youthful blondes on t.v do, cascading through a trail without a bead of sweat on their faces. I huff and I gasp for air. My thighs jiggle. My face looks terrified and pissed at the same time. 

I can't wait to finish the second I start.

Backspace 4 years ago when I started my journey of being a college athlete, where running is simply second nature. You do it to compete. You do it for punishment. You do it to ease your cluttered mind and you do it because you are usually rushing from one place to the other to be where you were supposed to be 15 minutes earlier. 

I hate everything about being in a hurry. It makes me anxious. It makes me really mad. 

Fast forward to this present moment. 

..Deadlines are my best friend, 
I have completed a 5k, 10k and my longest run to date is 1 hour and 50 minutes at a steady 10:55 pace, when I almost quit at 29 minutes.

Whewf.

1 year goal- I conquer something that terrifies me.

Lets dissect the roots of this.

I hated running. I hated being in a rush. I hated being late.

I hated the idea of not meeting expectations.

I associated this all with punishment and let down.

I never gave myself a chance to love something because I didn't give myself a chance to face my fear. 
All this time I was in control of my own punishment.

Do I sound like Dr. Phil yet?

Truth is, taking the time to myself to commit to something I loved to do gave me comfort.

I didn't feel so inferior to my own capabilities. 
I liked getting to know myself, to know my body, its limits and its freedom. 

I now run at least 10 miles a week. Not because someone told me to, but because I have that special time to myself. I breathe fresh air and if I need to, I lose control and scream at the pavement with my legs. That is my time to feel frustration, happiness, clarity and discomfort all at the same time. I learn more about myself because I take the time to do so. 

My legs do the work, my head just listens.

I run my first half marathon this upcoming August. It scares me to think I'm not terrified at all. I chose to do this. Not because I'm forced, but because my soul has this pulling sensation from my pre-arthritic ankles to my crunchy knees, to run right after my fear whenever I start my first long stride. No matter how sore I am or how resisted I feel from taking the next step, I do. 
I do, because I chose to do so and I'm capable of making my own choices. 

And that is pure, unconditional, self-love.