Running Back to Myself

There was a time in my life when running was simply part of who I was.

In my thirties, I ran often and far. At my best, I could run thirteen miles at a time. It wasn’t unusual for my feet to hit the pavement before the sun came up, chasing quiet miles while the rest of the world was still sleeping.

Running cleared my head.

It steadied my thoughts.

It reminded me that the body and the mind are stronger than we often give them credit for.

But life has a way of shifting priorities.

Work gets busier. Responsibilities stack up. Schedules stretch into the evening. Little by little, the habits that once grounded us quietly drift away.

Before long, running became something I used to do.

Over the past year, I've lost sixty pounds - something I’m incredibly proud of. But somewhere along the way, fifteen pounds crept back. Nothing dramatic. Just life doing what life does.

And lately I’ve been feeling the quiet pull of something familiar.

A reminder that the strongest version of myself - mentally and physically - has always been the one who moves.

So, 2026 is the year I return to running.

Not to prove anything. Not to compete with who I used to be.

Just to come back to it.

This September, my goal is simple: run a 5K.

Three miles.

Years ago, three miles would have been a warm-up. Today, it’s a goal and I’m perfectly okay with that. Starting again requires a different kind of strength than starting the first time.

I recently started the Couch to 5K app. It’s a humbling experience, but also a hopeful one. Run a little. Walk a little. Build back what once felt natural.

Every run reminds me of something important: progress isn’t about where you once were. It’s about the decision to move forward from where you are now.

This year is also about simplifying my life.

I’ve stepped back from photography as a side business, with only a few exceptions. I’ve left my night job behind and now work only during the day. For the first time in a long time, my evenings feel calm again.

Less rushing. Less noise. More space to breathe.

That space has allowed me to focus on what truly matters - a healthier mind, a healthier body, and a life that feels balanced instead of overwhelming.

Running fits perfectly into that.

Each mile is quiet. Honest. Uncomplicated.

Just breath. Movement. Forward motion.

And if all goes according to plan, sometime this September I’ll cross the finish line of a 5K.

Not chasing the runner I once was.

But reconnecting with the strength that has always been there.

Sometimes growth isn’t about becoming someone new.

Sometimes it’s about running your way back to yourself.