hello, old friend

It's been eleven months, two weeks and three days since my last.

Some would say the time lapse was too long; most would excuse me since I've "just" had a baby.

But it was time to break the fast. I finally laced up my last-year's-Christmas-present-but-hardly-used-Asics

and I went for a run.

Running has always given me much more than I've ever given it.

Running tells me I'm back.

Running tells me that my body is stronger than I give it credit.

Running tells me that I'm more than a milk-giving machine, more than a keeper of our home, more than a wiper of tears and a reader of books and a giver of much-needed hugs and love.

Running tells me that my husband is entirely capable of caring for the boys my world revolves around.

Running tells me that I am the same woman who discovered the escape of the sidewalk fifteen years ago. She may have gone to college, gotten married, become a teacher, entered ministry, and birthed two boys, but her need for fresh air and steady pavement will never die.

Running tells me that my hormones will stabilize, that quiet is possible and that I can move from surviving to thriving is this new normal.

I'm not promising myself much. There are no half-marathons or even 10K's on the horizon, but my shoes will remain by the door and my sanity will grow to anticipate the increasingly-regular, endorphin-inducing pleasure of a run.