Inspiration

The curious thing about inspiration is that you don't know where it will come from; a stream of consciousness post on Facebook or even a quick quip, a celebrity giving back in an extraordinary way or the kindness of a stranger. The pure poetry of nature...a gentle snow fall while sunlight strikes each snowflake magically turning the landscape to diamonds or the fleeting moment of a beautiful bird perched just outside the window can move you. For each of us, it is different, for each time of your life it will be different.

As I reach the mythical 7 year cycle, and my birthday that takes me to the year 35, I find that I am introspective. I am now officially not a kid, in fact I am approaching 40! Questions flood my head, 'what do I value?', 'am I the person I want to be?'. I thought for sure I would have run a second Marathon by now and instead I find running a daunting task. How is it that it is still so hard to motor my legs down the road? Why do my lungs burn and my mind scream in horror as I try to run a once easy trail? It isn't fair! I want it to be easy!

Then, completely out of the blue, my 6 year old son decided he wanted to run on our treadmill. I'm not sure if it was the countless races we have drug him to that sparked his curiosity or the countless stroller rides we subjected him to as we ran training runs, but I too remember a time when I thought the ghastly beast called a treadmill was friendly.

As his little body transitioned from the long, slightly awkward limbs into languid, graceful strides, it occurred to me that I was watching something extraordinary, something inspiring. The treadmill garnered more and more speed and he relished the idea of running faster and faster, unyielding to our pleas to take it easy. Finally at 3 1/2 miles, we coaxed him to stop. He beamed up at us and announced "I think I will do this a couple times a week...you know, to blow off steam.". Not bad for his 1st real run!

I realized that I too had once enjoyed running, as a child we all did. When did it become a chore? I replayed the images of his stride lengthening, stretching out, allowing him to feel free and uninhibited. Suddenly I was struck with the power of not taking it so seriously, using running to "blow off stream". Embracing running for the gift that it is, the time and space to have as your own and let your body move. As is the incredible gift of a child's clarity, my son's actions and enthusiasm spoke to me. Maybe, just maybe, this isn't hard. Maybe, just maybe, it is my thinking about it that is making running so hard.

Now, I'm not going to lie, climbing back on the beast after a long break is not easy, but the reward was the feeling of moving again. My knees moaned a bit and it took several minutes to easy into my stride, but I had silence finally from my constant over working mind. No more lists and reminders, no more bad self talk, just my body moving.

As I finished my run, my charming boy greeted me with the echo of my own words to him "I'm proud of you." and you know what? I am proud of me too.

Now where is that glass of wine I've earned?

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.vivacwinery.com