Running.

Since earlier this summer, I have been on a weight loss journey (my last one, I am not doing this to my body again). So far I have lost roughly 30 pounds, and while I have some left to be at my goal weight, I am now at a healthy weight and a good size. I'm happy, even if I'm not quite where I want to finish up at.

Part of that journey has included running. I've been running since 7th grade on and off... That's 21 years. Most of my life, I've been running.

I am finally to the point where I really enjoy it again. It takes time to get in shape (especially with those additional 30 pounds!).

It has always been a release for me, therapeutic, a way to get away from everything and take some 'me' time and think. To break away from responsibility and just be free for a short period of time.

This weekend I ran 6 miles. I barely felt it. I got lost in thought, my mind full of autism and JT and the future. My eardrums vibrating from the (too-loud) music beat.

And I realized, running is the only time I allow myself to feel weak. To feel like maybe I do carry a heavy load, and that sometimes it feels like it's crushing me bit by bit. The irony of doing the thing that makes me strong while feeling my weakest emotionally is definitely there.

Maybe that's why I love running.

I get my frustrations out, pounding my feet on the pavement. I allow myself to feel things I don't in my regular life.

When I get back home, I am myself again. I feel recharged, refreshed and able to take on anything.

Maybe it takes weakness to feel strength, and strength to feel weakness.

Whatever it is, I'm thankful for it. Thankful I am able to go out and wander. To be free for a while.