This morning I had a choice. I could choose to eat donuts and junk indulging the crappy mood I was in. Or I could choose to get off my butt, go for a run, and fight back.
I chose to run.
Well, I’ll be honest. I ate two donuts and then pancakes with my kids, but then I ran (and tried not to vomit).
I ran because what I was doing wasn’t working.
I ran because depression is hard and sucks the life out of you. Running is hard but it breathes life in!
I ran because close friends of ours lost a dear, dear friend to breast cancer yesterday after a four year fight. I ran because my heart breaks for them and their loss along with everyone grieving alongside of them.
I ran because another friend is anxiously awaiting her mother’s breast cancer surgery on Tuesday. I ran because my body is healthy enough to run. I ran because it is a gift, and logging the miles is the way I express gratitude for that gift.
I ran because I’ve earned it. I’ve worked hard for seven weeks in physical therapy. Every mile I ran today made that work worth it.
I ran because there will be no such thing as 3 or 5 easy miles again, unless I work for it.
I ran because I needed to dig deep and find the girl inside me who knows she can do hard things.
I ran because my family needs me to do what I need to do to feel better, to clear my head, and to be happier. I ran because my family needs me to stand up and fight.
I ran 5 glorious miles. Okay, the fifth mile was far from glorious, but I ran 5 miles at a moderate pace. It certainly wasn’t fast, but it was an okay long-run pace for me.
So today, I ran.