My writing comes in bits and pieces these days. I can’t quite put the words together. One thing is true, it’s the stories not spoken that we have the most to say about.

With time we all learn to cope with what is going on in our lives in different ways. We pull out our heart and invest all our time to something to get us through. Some have hobbies that they turn all their attention to. Some retire to the darkness of four walls and memories. Others search laughter in the abundance of friends and things. Quite often than not, not sure of how or why you got there but in a way accepted the reality.

I personally diverge my attention to many things. And though recovery has been long and very strained I’m finally in a place where my endurance can be tested. So on those days when everything wells up inside and I have not a way to express what I’m feeling. I blink back the thoughts. Tie my hair back. Put on my tennis shoes and I run.

Running to me is a bit freeing and truly peaceful. It leaves no room for thought. It’s just you and the open track. Breaking the wind and the space. Withstanding the time and just trying to stay focus on what lays ahead. It allows the mind to be cleared of all that is stressing so that the only thing from ear to ear is your racing heart beat and the thumping of your feet against the asphalt. The best running to me happens at midnight when the moon is high in the sky and the rest of the world is sound asleep or at the break of morning when the sun is the only one there to greet you.

Today as I did my morning run about ¾ of the running completed it started pouring rain and for a reason it stopped me dead in my track. I looked up at the sky, with my hands on my hips, breathing heavily. As if puzzled by what was happening. It’s not like I hadn’t ever seen rain, it’s not like I had never felt it on my skin, it’s not like I hadn’t noticed the sky was cloudy when I walked out of my house. But in that moment, it was unwelcomed by me; it was a distraction that startled me back to a reality. It didn’t matter the speed I ran in, or the distance I spanned I was getting wet and my step was getting heavier. I put my hands to my face and let out a deep sigh.

The thing about life is that is as surprising as unexpected rain fall. Our lives may be going at full speed, but all of a sudden a brick wall appears and it has the power of knocking the wind and the fight right out of you. We find sometimes we run a trail where the road is bumpy and the obstacles are many. Where it takes jumping over many hurdles to make it to the finish line. That there’s a startling reality when you trip over obstacles you didn’t see coming.

To be honest as I sat here writing this I began to think of everything I’ve been through in just the past 3 years. The way life changes unexpectedly, and the way the pace just gets you to the next moment. I think sometimes we forget that there is a huge difference between getting by and living.

Take my life for example. The moment I realized I was out of the woods with my health. Instead of returning to the old routine, I retracted to the minimal amount of energy. Its not that I wasn’t thankful, or that I hadn’t learned many lessons, it’s just that the fear of it all falling apart was bigger than my will to move forward. So I made the mistake of doing just the necessary to get by but not really pushing myself past it. My routine was by the book, ordinary, and plain. And in doing so it’s as if I slowed down from a full jog to a steady walk. To me it didn’t matter the pace just the fact that I was moving. Recently though something hit me like a bucket full of water. It startled me back to an undeniable reality. That life itself will not wait for you to arm yourself with courage, the clock on the wall will not wait for you to count all its seconds, or that even the people around you will not wait for you to decide to start living again. That it is an internal choice what our pace is and what we can handle but that it is also true that in setting it we can become mechanical.

It shouldn’t take a life threatening experience for us to be able to grasp what surround us, what we are capable as human beings. It shouldn’t take an ultimatum of any kind, a loss, or even a sudden down pour of things to let us know that there is life out there past it all. That the track doesn’t cease to exist when we choose to stop running. But if it happens that way, if life chooses to teach us that way, we must not take the lesson for granted.

There is no life truly enjoyed where there is no passion, where there are no risks, where there are no stories. And though it will be most of the time unwelcomed it will be what brings out the most sincere and inner person within us. That inner strength that you didn’t know you had. That voice that doesn’t whimper to a whisper.

For when you feel you have nothing left to give. No strength or breath in you. It will give you that necessary jolt, those last few or many steps to get you through to the finish line.