"Here I am, just waiting on this storm to pass me by. And that's the sound of sunshine coming down, and that's the sound of sunshine coming down..." -Michael Franti & Spearhead
I'll say it: I haven't been running. At all. It's been a tough month, but I am not going to waste words on excuses. I am a little different than many runners in that, by teaching my Spin classes, I still get that "fix" of endorphins and, believe me, I can hammer out a ton of emotional stuff on that bike. But, I miss my runs. I miss the flow and the gentle stride I now call my own. I miss hearing my own breathing. I miss cool, fresh, air hitting my lungs. I miss being in my own space and that, if the needed tears come, no one has to see them.
As I'm sitting here, procrastinating preparing to teach a class, I look out at the gorgeous fall day developing on the other side of my window and I say, "I just need some inspiration, and I'm going to stay here and wait until it shows up. Once it does, I'll be out there again."
And then I laugh. Silly girl. You know better than that. When I really think about it, inspiration has been all around me, but I have chosen not to see it. It was here in the energy of the NYC Marathon this weekend. It was here in the lump in my throat and the tears in my eyes that welled as I read an email from a friend, completely high after he completed it, his first. It was here Sunday when my son sat on my lap on the sidelines of his flag football game, his 7 year-old body shivering from the cold and a tough elbow he took that threw him to the ground. Yet, when the offense was called up, he ran right out to be with his team. It was here yesterday in an an ultrarunning promo video posted on Facebook, set to one of my all-time favorite motivating songs. It was here in a conversation with a new friend last night when I babbled on and on about the joys of running, especially the minimalist movement and doing it barefoot. It was here in the eyes of my students, who do not want to do one more Tabata drill (ever), but they do it anyway. It is here in a sunny, fall day, in the scent of fallen leaves, exactly like they smelled in the woods where I grew up. You get the idea. It is perpetually present...inside, outside and everywhere. We just have to choose it.