its been exactly one year (okay, i’m off a day) since i returned from a vacation in florida and jumped on a treadmill. i ran 5.5 miles that day. it took me an hour exactly, because the treadmills downstairs only let you run for 60 minutes. the sweat stung my eyes, my feet were bloody from my shoes, my legs burned, my lungs gasped and my heart pounded out of my chest. i cried that day. it was an awakening. i felt dead and alive at the same time. it dulled the pain i felt. it fueled my anger. it motivated me to become better at something, anything, whatever.

but returning home this day was different than a year ago. i didn’t feel bad running 5.5 miles, and i did it in a much quicker time, but i didn’t feel better. the pain from a year ago comes back, and a realization floods me that a year ago, running to dull the pain had one side effect; it made me run from the reasons i felt the way i did. i blamed everything and everyone for the pain i felt, but didn’t blame myself. today, i thought long and hard, and realized i’m the reason for the way i feel.

much like a year ago i started the long and slow drive run to making myself physically “better,” today, i start the long and slow process of taking responsibility for my emotions and actions. my mom thinks its about time. i know others that agree with her.