Running

For a very long time, I was a dancer. I still am, but it's not my entire life or being anymore. I love the way it feels when I dance. I like feeling like my legs are powerful and having something unique.

But the pageantry of Irish Dance caught up with me after a while, and I didn't have time to love the dancing anymore. It was more about feeling ashamed for not wanting to or being able to spend $1,500 on a solo dress- because look it's a dress, and I want to go to a nice college!

I was isolated from the rest of my dancer friends who didn't see the logic in aspiring to go to Carnegie Mellon, Columbia, or the like. They just wanted the sparkly dress, the spray tan, and the big trophy that wouldn't get them a job, but maybe they would feel nice for a while. Feel superior.

It hurt, feeling like the thing I loved wasn't all that I thought it was.

I feared the isolation, being set apart. But I pushed myself away anyways.

That's life.

And that's people.

I wouldn't say that I found running.

I knew about running.

My mom is a coach. She loves running.

I hated running.

But I was alone, and freshman year was hard, and one of my friends said I should join track.

So I joined track on the spur of the moment. Which is how I've done most of the best things in my life.

And god, how I love running.

Once again, my legs felt powerful, even through the pain.

And I was alone.

Yes I was alone.

On the track, it's just you, your lane, and the race.

And I don't fear it anymore.

Surging through the woods during a cross country race, I listen only to my own ragged breathing, and I am separate from everyone around me.

I don't feel isolated when my spikes hit the dirt.

I've got myself, and that's all I've ever had, all I will have for the rest of my time.

So I push harder.

And when the race is done, and when I've won over the people who force loneliness like a punishment-

I hug the other individuals. Lonely people.

Who run.