Morning run

I leaned over and pushed snooze once again.  It was 6:09 am.  For what felt like the first time since I had arrived in the Southeast, I had slept deeply through the entire night without the aid of liquor.  I couldn't believe it.  It was approaching the end of the week and I was glad.  Each day had been a different emotional roller coaster and despite feeling great this morning, I was ready to start a new week.  Monday had started productive.  I had made some good progress in my study design, but by Tuesday afternoon I had reached an emotional breaking point.  On the verge of tears, I had called my Dad.  I had called him because I wanted to tell him I was ready to quit.  That I was ready to give up and start over again sometime later.

I didn't say any of that to him though.  My Dad knew me better than myself and before I could even begin to form the words "I quit", he told me he knew that I wasn't where I wanted to be, but to stick with it.  That things would come together and in the end, at the end of all of this, I'd get to where I wanted.

It didn't really matter how many times he told me that or how many times I told myself that.  It didn't even matter how much I believed and knew it was true.  The journey to get there, most days, was just too daunting in it of itself.  The days where I felt like I just couldn't handle things were paralyzing.  They beat me down and made progress feel impossible.  And without progress, I'd never reach the end.  Without progress, I'd never get back home.

6:19am.  My alarm clock, again.  I leaned over and instead of pushing snooze, I turned it off.  Throwing the covers aside, I grabbed my gym shorts, a long sleeve jersey, and slowly picked at one of my protein muffins as I sluggishly put on socks and sneakers.  I was still tired, I was always tired, but in my continuing effort to take advantage of what I had in front of me, I was preparing to start the day off on the right note: Beginning it with a sunrise run.  I finished my muffin and headed outside.

It was cool this morning, just like it had been all week.  It was mid-September and a tease of fall was in the air.  Just the thought of it brought ease to my stressed mind.  Temperatures had been cooling off and although I knew by the afternoon it would be hot again, I was glad for the temporary relief now felt in the evenings and early mornings.

I began my normal loop -- a series of uphills and downhills that tested my stamina and my leg muscles.  When I had first arrived here, I couldn't even make it up the first hill without stopping.  Now, 5 weeks later, I was running up the first hill and progressing the rest of the 3 miles without stopping.  I wasn't a fast runner.  The 3 miles were tediously slow, but I ran them nonetheless.  This small accomplish, unknown to anyone else but me, was one of the few things that made me smile here.  It was evidence of something improving inside me, something pushing through the hard spots to keep going and not quit. 

As I crested the first hill, I turned up the volume on my i-pod.  In the previous weeks I had switched up my work-out music from up-beat party tunes to the mellow musical genius of folk artists like Gregory Alan Isacov and Radical Face.  The song "Idaho" had just come on, a song that both soothed my heart and made it weep.  A year ago, it was this exact song that convinced me to stay in Idaho for another month and a half and to not give up on my dreams.  Shortly after that though, I set aside my wants and chased my needs.  What I thought were my needs, at least.  Instead of staying in Idaho I chased an old flair. I knew I didn't love him.  I wanted to love him -- but I couldn't.  When I realized I made a mistake, I boarded a plane headed to Alaska, where I stayed for almost 9 months.  I had felt more or less just as empty there as I did here in the Southeast. I had let golden opportunity slip past me.  Every now and then I played the "what if" game in my head.  It was futile, I knew.

"Down in the bardo,
There was nothing to hold so we let it go.
We were empty, we were hollow,
Shined with everything we were living for."

Every time I listened to the song, everything was different.  I would feel completely removed from my current situation and set back down in some happy place I did not yet understand.  A place I knew existed, but hadn't been to yet.  The song, in some hidden way, stood for what I stopped chasing a long time ago, but at the same time, was still chasing today.

"And you see your soul,
like some picture show,
across Idaho."

The guitar infused with violin lifted me.  I smiled.

It was fully light out now, the sun making it's way over the horizon.  The clouds glowed ember red while the sky stayed a faint blue.  It was gorgeous.  Even through the trees, the sunrise was powerful.  It was the start of a new day pushing past the troubles of yesterday, leaving it behind.  That's all I wanted to do -- leave yesterday behind.  Leave every yesterday behind.