Outwitted, outspooned

I'm following on a fellow blogger's heels here, and I am hoping she doesn't mind. The ever funny, Lisa of Niihaus must have had the same thought process I did last month when I entered a written work into a new online magazine, Indigo Leaf. The first issue I read I really loved and I had hoped to be considered for the next issue. But, ah, it was not to be. You see, I was "out-spooned."

That's right. we were to write about the theme of "life," and someone else wrote about spoons. You know, the metal eating utensil? Yes, that one. Maybe I am "spoonist" or have a "fork or knife bias" or something. But, I don't get it.

I would feel disappointed about losing to a utensil, except for the fact that I went over and read Lisa's entry--a beautiful and heartfelt post about childbirth through the eyes of a mom of three. Her writing is normally snarky and hysterical, so this serious turn was a surprise. It was amazing and very well written.

All puns aside, stop by Indigo Leaf and take a perusal. It is a great magazine with a phenomenal concept behind it. Last month, Christina did a brilliant piece that is well worth reading and there are some really interesting things out there. And, then stop off and read Lisa's entry. And, if your are needing something else to read, you know to tire your eyes for the evening, then come on back and read my submission on freedom. Good evening, all!!!

Finally, Freedom!

For years, I had felt as though my life ran itself on its own treadmill--self-paced and constant. Plodding along with family, friends, expectations, hopes, and failures gripping on my shoulders like sandbags, weighing me down as I ran. Some days, I ran more easily than others, the weight seemed more bearable. Others, I was barely able to even walk through the day, and I fell into bed at nightfall, trying desperately to erase the many thoughts racing through my mind so that I can get the rest I need to start it all over again the next day.

More recently though, two things in my life have changed, allowing me a glimpse of something very real, very exciting, and very attainable: my own freedom. To some, this very idea may sound crazy--this notion of being set free from yourself. But, to a person who has grown up a perfectionist, who has low body image and refuses to allow herself to rest or just take the time to be still, this is really monumental. For years, I have imprisoned myself to a lifetime on a treadmill at a pace at which I cannot continue or survive. And, I know now that I can jump off and the world will stay intact and my life will go on.

About a year ago I started a running program again. Health problems threatened to alter my life and running was the only way I knew to get back to taking care of myself. During my teen years, I ran cross country and long distance track for my school. I remember the painful and restless nights after a meet, my flat feet pounding and shins piercing with pain. I recall horrible blisters, stress fractures in both feet, and general exhaustion. Yet, I continued on with it. The 6 a.m. morning runs where our small group of girls were dumped out on old country dirt roads and expected to run back to the school in time to shower and get to our first class on time.

What I lost sight of over these adult years, is why I ever put up with all of these negatives to running. I suppose I just chalked it up to naivete and inability to say no, but honestly there had to have been more to it. And, now I know. While, I have not become an avid runner this past year, I have found that I can be a runner again. And, most importantly, I discovered the freedom of being fit enough to run and have it feel good for me, not painful. There are times when I have been running a distance that I feel the warmth rising up the muscles in my thighs, my breathing falling into that familiar pattern and my arms moving in time. During these moments, I do not feel pain or frustration or self-doubt. I feel free from all of those things I usually carry along with me. I am centered and I am whole.

The other taste of freedom I have felt only happens when I am writing. I am able to block out the world and just be. I type frantically without thought to what is pouring onto the page with each tap of my fingers on the keyboard. Many times I lose track of time completely. But, most often, my best pieces seem to fly out of me as if they have been waiting so long to be released and opened up for all to see.

Through my writing, I have realized things that never come to me even when I try to focus and think things through. I have realized a self-confidence as well, knowing finally that I have found what I was meant to do in my life all along.

Words are my passion, and I feel energy when I am using them to say something. I anticipate where this confidence may take me in my life, but I also have the satisfaction of knowing that no matter where I go in my life my words cannot fail me. They are my truth and my light. They help me take off those heavy bags that weigh me down while I'm on that treadmill, and remind me that I am a human who makes mistakes, who has faults, and who deserves to be loved even so.