I remember the day perfectly. I had managed to find a floor model Livestrong treadmill on clearance that played alongside my teacher’s salary nicely. There it sat in our 800 square foot condo as a daily reminder to make time for exercise. While my partner at the time wanted nothing to do with its existence I marveled over the idea of lacing up my sneakers in the comfort of our home on a cold winter day. I had a long term boyfriend, a home, a job I loved, and now a treadmill. I had the world figured out at the age of 25. 

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. There I was in the shower looking down at a body that I no longer recognized. All these years I had contributed my large thighs to the high mileage I had put in every week on my runs; As the soap streamed down those same large thighs I couldn’t remember the last time running was a part of my routine. In that moment I knew that what I was fighting was much bigger than my nagging weight or the worldwide pandemic that I blamed it all on. I was single, living alone in a 4 bedroom home, with a job I was no longer passionate about, and that same treadmill. I had a heavy heart full of incomplete dreams. At the age of 36 I had nothing figured out. 

The next day I decided to dust off my treadmill and clear my mind with a run. As the sweat beaded down my forearms and the stale air in my bedroom entered my lungs I let the anxiety melt right off me. I released the impossible reel of expectations that was playing on repeat in my head. I focused on my stride and embraced the calm that took over my body. 

 As I ran on that treadmill for the first time in months I was only positive about one thing. Ok maybe two with two being that I was a very out of shape Melissa. Ok, back to my point…I was positive that whatever I decided to do next, I’d be OK. What my 25 year old self didn’t know was how tough my 36 year old self would be having an armor of experience of ups and downs at her disposal. 

Mile 2 passed and I realized that there was one thing in common about all of my treadmill runs over the past 20 years as a runner. I never let myself standstill on one for more than a few seconds or I’d get swept away by the moving belt.

As my workout came to an end, I gave my 36 year old self permission to not have it all figured out as long as I promised myself to always keep moving forward.