The Story in the Reflection

Three ice cubes and 50 ounces of water in a Camelbak.

Three pockets of Espresso Gu and 8 Sports Beans.

This is my standard fuel reserve for an 8-13 mile training run.

An ipod with a playlist.  A Garmin monitoring my heart rate, elevation, distance and speed per mile.

Short shorts.  A tank.  Running shoes.  Colorful wool socks. And lip gloss...pink, shiny gloss to be exact.

It's a routine that transpires every Saturday morning.

I run through parks, neighborhoods, down busy streets, up hills, under overpasses, along side cyclists, and try not to get hit by cars.

My music is obnoxiously loud and my heart is always pounding.

Today was hard.  My hips hurt.  My legs were tired.  My mind was racing.  And more than a handful of times, I wanted to bag it and call it a day.

But the thing that always stops me is that I've never done that before.  I've never not (I love the use of double negatives) finished a run.  And I always lean on precedent.  I don't want to break the stride, literally.

So, I started telling myself a story about the woman I am, not the woman that I often apologize for being.  I started visualizing strength and releasing of fear, doubt, guilt, indecision...because they're so useless anyway,

And then I caught a glimpse of myself on the side of a retail building and I was stunned.  That's me.  All strong and shit.  How did that happen?  When did I become that?  Was I always that?

I'm a fan of power.  Owning who you are and recognizing what you've earned.  And not apologizing along the way.

Today's 10-miles taught me that good things come when you keep lacing up the shoes and doing what you know to be healthy in your life.

I really liked the reflection...the image of a powerful me. I think I'll keep running toward it.