Breathe.

I have a plate with the word BREATHE on it. It’s a plastic Rae Dunn plate I found at Home Goods. Part of a set that was broken up. But I had to have it.

I use this plastic plate. BREATHE. On weekends mostly. Everything bagel with jalapeno cream cheese. Poppy seeds scattered around the word. Reminding me to BREATHE.

Right now it takes everything in me to breathe. I want to hold my breath. Because if I don’t, I am afraid of what will come out.

Fire. The anger inside. Frustration. Pain.

Hurt. Too much of me. More than I want people to know.

Sigh. So quiet. Almost inaudible. Of defeat. The end.

But I can’t hold my breath forever. And I can’t walk around numb.

So I run. As fast as I can. The cold air stinging my face. Burning in my lungs. My ears throbbing.

And the whole time. I am breathing. Gasping for air. Pulling it as deeply into my lungs as I can. Making my chest hurt. My throat raw. But I don’t stop. I push myself harder as I near the end. Finishing. Eyes blurry. Heart pounding. Deeply breathing.

This run. This run was much more than a run. It was me. Forcing air into my lungs. Forcing myself to breathe. And for those 33 minutes. I did. Breathe.

Then today. Another day. Another run. Drizzling water soaking my visor and windbreaker and shoes. Till the water began to drip off the cuffs of my sleeves and squish between my toes. Once again. Trying to breathe. Breathe past the anger. The hurt. The feelings of defeat. Fighting the desire to be numb. Making myself feel all the things.

That is when I realized. Realized what running truly is for me. I have always known it was a gift. To become a runner at 40 years of age. Never having run a mile straight, even in my younger years. Insane to most people. Including many of my friends at the time. Yet week after week. Saturday after Saturday. Evenings after long work days. Early vacation mornings. In heat and rain. I get up. I lace up my shoes. And I run.

And the epiphany I had today. Running up that hill. Rain moving from drizzle to drops.

I run to breathe. I run so that everything that is constricting. Holding me back. Is shaken off. And I can breathe. Each breath, a breath of freedom. From myself. From the past. From the present. From the future. From all the things that hold me back from being who I am supposed to be.

So in that moment. That run. I breathe. And then. I do it again.