three miles

Running. It’s been months since I’ve ran and I miss it.

I’ve always hated the first three miles of every run.   The uneven pace.  The labored breath.  The voices in my head that just won’t shut up.  Conversations that I’m now forced to have with myself as my feet find their path.

The pace doesn’t matter.  I could be plodding along at a recovery pace or attempting to PR a 5K.  My mind rages for three miles before it quiets.  Checklists for work.  Checklists for home.  People to see.  Things to do.  Things I should have done.  How to make things better.  What to make for dinner.  Should I go back to school?  Am I gaining weight? What color should I dye my hair? Should I learn another language? What time did I fall asleep last night?  Did I ever call my mom back?

And finally, silence.  Three miles.  The conversation stops and clarity sets it.  My breathing settles.  My feet find their stride and time becomes irrelevant.  The distance that follows doesn’t matter.  Silence is my friend.  I forget I’m running until I stop.

Oh, how I miss the quiet.

Conversation

Finally

New Year’s Eve.  Out with the old.  In with the new.  The time for reflection and resolutions.  Most people make promises of going to the gym or eating healthier. My New Year’s tradition? Starting (and abandoning) a new blog.  So, in the spirit of the holiday, here we are. Finally.

The past two years were a blur of lectures, study groups, and thousands of multiple choice questions preparing for the CPA exam.  My weekends were spent at the library and during the week I moonlighted at the local Starbucks until closing.  I joined the ranks of the general population that pays for a gym membership they don’t use.  I mastered the art of declining invitations to anything remotely social.  I spent every free moment outside of the office studying.

It seems only fitting that the results of my final section of the CPA exam were released one week before Christmas.  I halfheartedly joked that someone had to play the Grinch, but was relieved that it wasn’t my holiday that was ruined this year.  Most people would have jumped for joy or even cried tears of happiness when they found out they passed.  I didn’t.  I took a deep breath and felt like an elephant had stepped off my chest. Finally.

I could visit Starbucks just to get a cup of coffee. My weekly library visits would be to read the novels that had teased me while I studied.  I could spend hours paging through cookbooks as I planned out meals for the week.  I could workout again. I could visit with friends and family again. Finally.

And I no longer would have an excuse to not write more often.

Finally.

Finally