Hopeful
Yesterday morning, I decided it was time to try and take a walk. Not a run, mind you, but a relatively easy, not-too-long walk. One that I hoped wouldn't cause any flare-up within my body.
The moment I slipped on my running bra, I felt as though I had come home. By the time I laced up my shoes, I'd only confirmed how much I missed the feel of their embrace.
The crisp, December air brushed my cheeks and tickled my nose, and the call of the birds energized me. I won't bore you about the fine details of my walk--like how far I went and how fast--but I'm so grateful I went out. I'm also hopeful that I'm healing well. I can't wait until I'm ready to run, instead of walk.
The moment I slipped on my running bra, I felt as though I had come home. By the time I laced up my shoes, I'd only confirmed how much I missed the feel of their embrace.
The crisp, December air brushed my cheeks and tickled my nose, and the call of the birds energized me. I won't bore you about the fine details of my walk--like how far I went and how fast--but I'm so grateful I went out. I'm also hopeful that I'm healing well. I can't wait until I'm ready to run, instead of walk.
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