Today I went for a run for the first time in a long time. I’m terribly unfit. People I went to school with wouldn’t even believe me because when I used to say I was unfit back then what I really meant was that I hadn’t been running for two weeks. Now I’m the least fit that I’ve been in my entire life except for the period after they cut my knee open to stick it back together. But today I went for a run.
And there’s something in those first few strides, wearing comfortable shoes and with my hair tied back, that feels like coming home. I know this is just because I used to go jogging a lot, and it wouldn’t feel that way for everyone, but I find it comforting. It’s comforting that even though running is hard, and by the end of the run my body hurt, I’ve trained myself to do it with some amount of joy.
It makes me wonder what else in the future, regardless of how hard it seems now, will feel like coming home when I return to it. It gives me hope and a renewed sense of determination.