I often cry after my runs.
The mornings where I push myself to put one foot in front of the other and stay on track with my training have become a space of deep reflection, integration, and contemplation.
I have a question that eats at me from time to time, but I never ask it because it’s rooted in my core wound. That means the answer is irrelevant and unnecessary for me to heal and move forward. There’s no response that will do anything but feed an old part of me in one way or another. No answer or explanation will do anything other than lead me down a path I never want to walk again.
Sometimes, like today, this question comes up on my run.
I spend the time circling the track just being present with the pain of it. Letting that old part of me be heard and witnessed before anchoring into what I know to be true. Before finding my way back into these new ways of being I’m adopting and the new beliefs that have supported me in rapidly creating more of what I desire.
By the end of my run today, I collapsed in the shade and cried, yet again, because I’m so grateful.
I’m grateful to not know the answer. In fact, I’m thankful the question has a reason to exist at all. I’m grateful for all that’s become possible, all that I’ve discovered and experienced, and all the beauty that’s yet to come. I’m thankful every time it prompts my core wound to reveal itself and a story it loves to tell because that means I can clear it and uncover even more peace and freedom in myself.
Grateful, happy, and so in love with this wholehearted life I’m building now.