I cannot brag about ever having climbed Mount Everest, or finishing a refreshing swim across the English Channel. I don’t have a single triathlon medal, and am not a big runner. When it comes to the idea of running, I’m all for it. I imagine the exhilaration, the sweat, and the satisfaction that I’ll feel once the run’s complete.
I lace up my sneakers, and am mighty, and strong. Gazelle-like, in my imagination.
I feel free, healthy, and powerful.
That is, until I begin actually running. Everything starts off alright. Then, I start thinking about my knee and how I really need to do some strengthening exercises for it.
I wonder whether running is actively bad for it. I proceed to curse the dumbass who brought homemade wine on that one ski trip, because that’s when I tore my ligaments and likely why my knee hurts. I mean, who brings booze skiing?
Oh. Right. My friends. Which is probably why they’re my friends, and also probably why my knee hurts while I pound the pavement.
Then, I start thinking about my boobs, because they’re bouncing around and I wonder if real runners buy more expensive sports bras than the ones I get from the sale bin without trying them on.
I think too much about breathing, sure that I’m not actually doing it correctly. Then I try to do it correctly, and end up getting more winded. I decide to give myself a little break, and walk for a few.
This usually happens before I’m even at the ½-mile mark. I know. I told you that I’m not much of a runner.
While my body hasn’t done much in the amazing department when it comes to running, or climbing famous mountains, there are some things that it has accomplished. Here are a few that come to mind.
My body comforts my son. There was the moment when he was born, kept warm upon my chest, and there was today, when I was able to catch running-flying him as he greeted me after a day of work, and there was tonight and all of the nights, when it wraps itself around him, reminding him that he’s not alone, and that bad dreams can be sent away.
My hands cradled his newborn head, both with trepidation and with voiceless power, gifted to all new mothers throughout the ages. My hands held onto my husband’s during labor, connecting me to a place that was both inside and outside of myself.
Today, they apply band-aids, make school lunches, and spike Tucker’s hair so that he looks almost as cool as he actually is.
My body carried my little boy. While it required bed rest to do so, it came through for all of us, allowing my husband and I grow from two to three, and gave us the light that will bind us through sunshine and rain.
My feet and legs and back have carried my sleeping infant up the stairs, and they have carried my ailing dog to his final place.
My body breathes, and lives, and beats, and thinks. It is with this body that I have walked among all of the streets on which I’ve lived and visited. It is with this body that I have hugged relatives, friends, and, sometimes most importantly, people I’ve only briefly met.
It is with this mouth that I have voiced my dreams, and even made a few of them come true.
It is with these fingers that I type these words, allowing my mind and my soul to share my stories, and to read and listen to yours.
There was one time, while I was still in college, when my body defied all gravity laws and may have been responsible for creating some type of vortex or whatever they’re called.
Anyway, it happened during a party.
A bunch of us were having fun and then, I was in a closet, and
This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post. As in, we’re BACK!!!
It is with sadness and understanding that I announce that Janine and Kate will no longer be hosting on a regular basis. They’re both focusing on IRL and will join us as hosts and participants as they’re able to. Here’s a very very warm thank you to both of them, who began Finish the Sentence Friday 19 months ago, and have made it one of the most inspiring and creative blog linkups on the internets.
Both Stephanie and I will continue to host and will feature guest hosts for each prompt. Remember, we’re on an every-other week schedule until September (and really? It’s almost mid-August??), which means that the next prompt will take place on August 21 (one day before my birthday for those who need time to shop). We don’t have a sentence yet but I promise to think of something good. Or, bloggers, feel free to submit your sentence suggestion in our Facebook Group. Those chosen get to co-host!!