I look at this triad that stares back at me and still to this day am unsure of its unfolding. I peer into the eyes of that little girl named Suzanne.
Dreams of a 7-year-old are quite simple… the fairytales of my princess room seemed so life-like and doable. The genuineness to travel to space, meet my celebrity crush, and care for my baby doll as if her literal life depended on it, kept me smiling and full of life.
The adult years slapped me in the face with a darkness I wasn’t prepared for. The unforeseen devil in the bottle of whiskey, the lies of processed shit food, being overweight, and the hidden agenda of my mind… were to continually taunt me, shame me, and unravel every little good thing I wanted to believe about myself.
Today you will find me on solid ground, but with dreams that soar, and a heart that’s been mended. This didn’t come without tough lessons, steadfast trust, and a pair of sneakers. Those worn out treads have carried me miles and miles.
Running gave me purpose. It befriended me at my lowest, and has taken me to my highest. It never sways, it never says…”‘no you can’t”, it’s not partial to day or night, it doesn’t care what I look like, or what I wear. It just shows up when I need it… and guides me one step at a time. It listens without judgement, and it believes in me.
Running helped me break the chains, and fight for a new existence. It instructed me to do better. We all have crap in our mental closets. We stuff it away, we drink it down, we purge it up… over and over.
What if we just do better? Don’t wait until tomorrow. Don’t excuse yourself to repeating patterns. Do better. Do something. Do it until you see that 7-year-old’s innocence again… and when you see her, tell her she was right. You can be anything your heart desires. The end.