He was already two beers in when I had decided on the crisp apple cider option etched on the specials’ board next to the jukebox. We had made our way to a local pub to enjoy a night out together and escape the demands of life. He was young, much younger than me, but I was enamored by his lifestyle full of adventures and eagerly inserted myself as his tag along girlfriend. As the conversation flowed, he asked me about my hobbies. That seemed like a typical first date question, right?

A few months later I found myself running. Running from embarrassment. Running from anger. Running from a broken heart. I had weaved my way into the running efforts of a friend who was training for a marathon. Each mile reminded me that I was alive. I was capable. I was hardworking. I could achieve. 

Hobbies? See the thing was we had been dating for about 7 months. “Writing, I like to write. I’d like to write a book one day,” I said. As soon as the words slipped out of my mouth he responded, “Can you write? Have you ever written anything?” The tone and snark in his voice struck me. He proceeded to go on and on about his particular writing style and all of his hobbies and talents, but I already knew them. We had spent our time together indulging his needs, wants, and hobbies. 

While the relationship dried up months later, those words would live with me forever. Was it because he clearly didn’t believe in me? Or was he right? What about my life choices and efforts would lead me to become a successful writer one day?

Later that year, I ran that marathon with my friend. I hadn’t planned on running it, but sometimes the universe has better plans than the ones you make for yourself. As I crossed the finish line, the only thoughts that went through my mind were my own. You can, you will, and no one, not even a 25 year old 2 beers in, gets to take that away from you….so get moving.