Running has always been one of my greatest pleasures. Not in a competitive way — no, always alone, outside, with the wind hitting my face. Running has always been my preferred form of meditation. Like all things I cherish, I kept running to myself and did it as a pastime.
For me, the serenity I received from it would be tainted if I were to run competitively in marathons, or in track or cross country when I was in school. I always felt it was crucial to keep running from becoming a chore, or an act done solely for a gold medal.
Imagine my surprise the day I rolled out of bed, stood up to brush my teeth, and fell to the ground, unable to move. And the day I brought my first wheelchair home. When I reached remission from Lyme disease, I ran daily again. To be honest, I started too fast. My body wasn’t ready to hit the road yet.