I went on a run yesterday; the kind where it's muggy and hot outside and you think about huge things while you lose your breath and sweat quickly covers your body. I told myself to run twenty minutes, and I started fast, and then thirty minutes passed, and I told myself to run some more.

It was hot and the sky looked like thunder and my legs felt like bricks and I just kept going. I didn't start out with grand thoughts about life, because I started out with basic thoughts about running, but the former evolved from the latter because that tends to be the way it works when you're running.

I started going to CrossFit last summer and I continued for about two months. During that time, I stopped running because most of the time I was too sore to run, and when I wasn't too sore to run I felt too strong to need to run. It was fine, and then I stopped going to CrossFit, but I kind of had already stopped running, so for a while I was just sort of lazy. When I finally started again, I never pushed myself to the caliber that I used to in my cross-country days, and certainly not to failure like I often did in CrossFit.

I got so comfortable that I forgot what the edges of my comfort zone felt like. But I like being in that space. I need it.

Here's to finding that line, and then walking on it.

There are several things that I never imagined I'd ever say before going Paleo. One of them is "This salad could really use some bacon." Another is "We'll just take one more order of chorizo" when asked if I'd like to order some dessert, and finally,"I'm free after CrossFit," or really anything that involves me doing a pull-up or putting weight on a bar. 


I have been a runner for almost a decade. It changed my life, and it is in my bones, and I will always identify as a runner. I was on an amazing team with amazing people and running changed my high school experience for me, and then I went to college and running got me through a lot of that, too. I still run with some of my girlfriends from cross-country, but we mostly do it to catch up and have a chance to talk in the midst of our busy lives. So running has turned from what was a team sport to me into a mostly individual thing--something I do with my iPod or an early morning mist. I love what it has become, but there was something missing from my recent exercise experience. 

It was motivation, and I've found it.

The things I love about CrossFit are the same things that I first loved about running. This is also a team, and, like my old one, we're tied together by incredibly specific things. My cross-country team's Pasta Parties have been replaced by CrossFit's endorsement of Paleo. My wonderful friends might not be in the gym every morning with me, but there are plenty of amazing people there to cheer me on when I feel like quitting. 

Most importantly, I have never felt stronger; never more aware of the potential that lies within my body. And the compliments I've received in just three weeks about the looks of my arms and shoulders? Well, those help, too.

Every day, CrossFit reminds me of where I came from, and encourages me to get to where I'm going.

On Saturday morning, I managed to remind myself of all the reasons I love to run. There is something wonderful about being a runner. It's about constantly re-discovering just how strong you are. You go out there and run a race with 40,000 other people and really feel like part of a community, but when it starts to rain and your legs get tired and it hurts, all that really matters is you and that voice within that says you can still finish the damn thing, blow your goal time away, and make yourself proud. So that's what you do. I hope I never outgrow this thing that has become such a huge part of my life.

After our post-race brunch, showers, and respective nap times at Tina's apartment, Rob and I headed to Farmville to visit some friends at Hampden-Sydney. 

I woke up on Sunday morning and got in my car to drive the six miles down Back Hampden-Sydney Road, one of my favorite little drives to do alone in the morning. I always do the same thing: I play the same old Taylor Swift album, I roll the windows down, and I allow myself to be completely overcome with memories from college, like that drive between Longwood and Hampden-Sydney that Rob and I did so often that very first spring we were together. Then I get coffee.

This time, I made a friend. This dog came running up to me out of nowhere when I pulled over to take a picture of the road.

He gave me some kisses and then ran alongside my car for a while after I told him to go home.

I went to bed so tired on Sunday night, but so thankful for the chance to remember how important a few things are to me.

Life is good in the spring, isn't it?