Sometimes.

I got mad tonight, really mad. And I wasn't sure how to breathe anymore. So I went out for a run.

Normally I would go ahead and eat all the ice cream in the fridge, or pick a fight with anyone daring to walk into the room, or even drive around town until my eyes became heavy. But instead, when it seemed to be too much, I laced up my shoes and headed to the sidewalk. It's pitch black just past my porch light and I got lost in the emptiness. The darkness around me seemed so open. With each step, the heaviness started lifting and the pain seemed to shake loose from the soles of my shoes. My mind was going too fast to think through the anger, so I ran through it. I ran fast, and it forced me breathe. I ran fast, and it forced me to push through the pain. I ran fast, and it slowed down my mind enough to think through the anger. And I figured it out. I understood my anger and let it go.

Sometimes it sucks to be an adult. Sometimes a good run reminds me I can still fell like a kid, be as free as a kid. Sometimes I need to let it all out, and leave it on the street.

Sometimes, I'm glad only comes every once in a while.

In peace,
Beth