Thoughts from the pillow in the middle of the night...

I am single. I live alone. I am not a good sleeper. In those moments of silence, when I’ve just put my head down on the pillow, or when I find myself awake in the middle of the night, I think. I think about my 91-year-old grandmother, and the long life she’s lived. I think about my young nieces and nephews and the life that is still ahead of them. I think about my brother and sister and parents. I think about friendships. I think about deaths. I think about work, about house projects, about the crazy lady that lives below me. I think about lost loves. And I think about me. I try to figure out what’s ok and what’s not ok with me. What I like and what I don’t like. I try to figure out how to better me. I should do more volunteering. I should have more patience. I should stop my bad habit of needing something sweet after each meal. I should, I should, I should…. What do I do? I run. Not necessarily in the middle of the night, but I decide then, that’s what I will do. Running makes me better. Running, really, came into my life about a year and a half ago. The truth is, it has always been in my life – my dad was a marathon runner and the race director of a local 18 mile race for 15 years while I was growing up. I was a recreational runner – just something to do for fitness – for a while. Then, after witnessing everyday-looking people completing an Ironman Triathlon, I decided I could do more than my three miles a day. So I got fitted for shoes and started increasing my distance. Suddenly, I felt like I had a goal. A focus. This was something I couldn’t remember ever having before. I remember running 5 miles without stopping for the first time. Then 6, then 7, then more. Each new milestone made me feel better. Each new distance was a new goal achieved. I ran my first distance race – a half marathon – and loved it. Then, after all the years of volunteering at the race my dad directed, I ran it for the very first time. I loved every step of those 18 miles. Another milestone, a little bit better… I ran through the cold winter months, freezing my pigtails that poked out from under my hat, and listened to friends who didn’t understand what I was doing tell me to stop running so much. I listened, but I didn’t listen. They didn’t, and still don’t, understand that I have to run. It makes me better. People ask me all the time what I think about for all those hours I’m running. Too much, I tell them. Most of the time, I’m thinking about my body. What feels strong, what doesn’t. When I need to drink, or when I need to fuel. What that twinge is in my knee, or how low my heart rate feels. Sometimes, though, I think about those things that swirl in my mind in the middle of the night from the pillow. I find my thoughts straying to the recent hospital visit for my grandmother, the fight I had with my sister, the most recent love lost... And then, as if by magic, it’s time to make a turn, or take a sip. Or I catch a glimpse of the sun sparkling on the ocean, or a lone, puffy cloud against the rich, blue sky. And suddenly, I’m better. I’ve found focus with running. I’ve set goals, and I’ve accomplished them. I’ve run two marathons and a triathlon. I've made new friends. I’ve inspired my twin sister to run, and we’ve run milestones together. Running makes me better. In those quiet moments, when I’m awake in the middle of the night, I think about all sorts of things. And I look forward to my run the next day.

Thoughts from the pillow in the middle of the night...

mandaroo

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