You know when you're in that place, in the middle of something challenging, and it can feel like it will never be any other way then the way it is right now?

And you know that feeling when you get down the road a bit and look back on that time and it has softened and woven into your life and your new perspective becomes remember that one year when....

Well I am grateful and pleased to say that the start of this new year finds me run/walking down that road, the one that is softening and weaving the last year or so into my life. And although I can't predict the future, I've got a solid feeling that the tedious challenges of learning to bear weight on my leg and trying to bend my knee have given way to the new and exciting challenge of teaching my body to run again.

When I recently told a friend that I was actually excited about starting over he said "Yeah, there's beauty in starting over." And frankly, what are my options? Find the beauty in it or don't. And option number one has all the good energy.

Maybe the biggest gift in starting over is having all that time when I couldn't run to survey where I began and how far I've come. I am starting over but I'm certainly not at the beginning. And even though I was back in the gym ten days after my first surgery and have been training all along, the training was different, altered. I couldn't run, so in that sense I've had one giant rest period. Everything fell away, or maybe fell to pieces, and I've been able to take my time to sift through it all. What stood the test of time comes with me, and everything else stays behind with a thank you for the lessons given. It's not a bad formula for life, either--a little time out to loosen the reigns, let things fall where they may...

My running had to rest--it was begging for a rest. I think we've worked through our issues; what we know for sure is that we want to travel this life together. I've still got my big dreams, I just had to learn to not put so much pressure on running. I could be critical of running and got frustrated often. I had expectations of running in my body that running couldn't deliver in the way I determined. But I've been chastened. I've been asked to take a backseat and let things unfold, remain grateful, grateful, grateful. I like this. I like the simplicity of this. Of course, simple doesn't mean easy but I'm not looking for the easy way, just the most meaningful.

Thankfully, I love a starting line. I love that kind of sick feeling in my stomach telling me that something that I care about is going to happen. I love the mental fortitude that it takes to wait for the gun to go off. I love that all I want to do is flee in the other direction, yet, at the same time, there is no where else I'd rather be.

So, here I am: I've lost all my fitness, I'm about to turn 57, and most days my legs still don't get what I'm asking them to do. My ratio of strength work and mobility to running is about 90/10. And I am never not navigating a relationship with pain. All I want to do is flee in the other direction, and there is no where else I'd rather be.

A new start--I'm down for it.