Running used to be a thing for me. A fluid metronome freedom of motion with a slow build high.

Recurring pain was literally my Achilles heel . After multiple projects of rest, restart, rally and re-injure, I gave it away. Too many birthdays.

“For me, running is both exercise and a metaphor. Running day after day, piling up the races, bit by bit I raise the bar, and by clearing each level I elevate myself. At least that’s why I’ve put in the effort day after day: to raise my own level. I’m no great runner, by any means. I’m at an ordinary – or perhaps more like mediocre – level. But that’s not the point. The point is whether or not I improved over yesterday. In long-distance running the only opponent you have to beat is yourself, the way you used to be.”

― Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

Luckily I am blessed with the mental and physical fortitude to beat myself in a multitude of other ways.

At (almost) 63, I am able to regularly ride my bike. I go to the gym 5 times a week and meditate every day. I eat a plant based diet, take no regular medications, sit in the psychologically-bland band of the mental health spectrum, and I live in a safe, beautiful space.

For all this I am deeply grateful.

Moreover, I am extraordinarily aware that I am privileged to be in this situation & that one or all of these conditions could change in a heartbeat.