I ran, raced, and loved running shoes for decades, but quit eight years ago. My body told me to rest, and I listened. Her husband and I discovered running, and it carried us through love, marriage, work, children, grandchildren, and beyond. Running in the mornings was something we did and we would trade it off while the kids were young. It was so predictable that one morning my daughter asked, “Are there any moms or dads who don't run?”
priscilla dun courtney
Now, 45 years after its founding in 1979, I wondered what it would be like to just go for a run as Boulder Boulder made its way down our path. Boulder The butterflies of excitement and anxiety never went away at the starting line of Boulder. It was stage fright that I just wanted to escape. And it worked beautifully. That was all I needed. Community, connection, and competition enveloped me in a comfort of sweat and joy.
So yesterday morning, after a long pause in my stride, I burst out the front door. It was shaky and slow, but I couldn't help but smile as I put one foot in front of the other. I no longer care about being slow. Not that anyone was looking for it. But more importantly, “I” no longer cares, I just appreciate the morning air, and I still remember that. Just like cycling, running is something that is never forgotten and stays in our hearts and souls forever. Although I only ran for 15 minutes, it was a memorable run. I didn't run up Vail Mountain under stunningly blue skies or complete my first marathon in a faraway city. But I was back on the path I knew like the back of my hand. The stone, which had the perfect toast shape and rounded edges at the top, was no longer there, but the rocky path hadn't really changed much, but I was . I no longer had the ease and grace of my youth, but somehow, as long as I run “in” and “out”, there are still moments of grace that I never have to lose. When I slowed down to take a walk on my front porch, I felt the same feeling I had when I ran a 10K race. Just 15 minutes into my running shoes, I found my inner magic again.
As age affects us, the relationship between sports and our bodies inevitably changes. Many of us have a somewhat complicated relationship with our bodies and carry unkind negative emotions. Age can bring more acceptance and, hopefully, allow those emotional “kinks” to be removed in time for the arrival of the physical ones. But you don't necessarily have to give up the sports you love, whether it's playing a racket, skating in a pool, or skiing on white powder. But what will change is our relationship with sports. Theodore Roosevelt said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” The same goes for competing with your younger self. Because of that competition, they quickly become outclassed and are often unable to return to that world. It robs us of the joy of being there, even for a 15-minute moment walking down a muddy road. Having the freedom to choose whether to return to sports is like meeting an old friend who has brought us many gifts. Being together will feel different and may never be exactly the same, but the familiar sense of security and comfort will remain.
I believe that our relationship with our bodies is a kind of marriage. We must listen and have open, two-way communication. Sometimes we encourage it and ask them to slow down or start moving. And it's the same for us. Divorce is not an option, so we have to work on our marriage. We strive to grow and change together, accepting limitations and things we cannot control, such as the inevitable aging and death.
But it's also different from relationships with others, where maintaining a strong independent sense of self actually increases the strength of the relationship. But when it comes to our bodies, we need a fusion and integration of body, mind, heart, and spirit. And the more we can create a beautiful weave while taking care of all aspects of ourselves, the more hope we have for continued emotional and physical health and well-being.
The gift of aging forces us to listen to the wisdom of our bodies. It can be dazzling and surprising, but it never lies. For some reason, when I was younger, I often ignored my body's messages that it was tired, hurt, and needed to slow down. In retrospect, I may have been able to adapt, but that disconnect would lead me down a dark path emotionally and physically. Aging keeps reminding us of the finish line, but it also carries a clear message for a new starting line. I smile when I see my granddaughter hobbling around on her little feet, and even just putting one foot in front of the other through the front door makes me smile. It's not the starting line of Boulder Boulder, but we still get butterflies landing at the start of something new because we find grace in putting on old shoes.
Priscilla Anncourtney can be contacted through her website priscilladanncourtney.com.
