Headwinds.

A few weeks ago I tagged along for a run with some friends for a good 13.5 mile long run. I was thrilled and anxious to get started that day and spend time with my good running buddies.
I woke that morning and packed all the things I'd need for my run along the country back roads.
Chunky water bottle, sexy fanny pack to hold beans and gels, you know, the essentials.

I swung open the door and jumped out in my church high heels with my running bag stuffed full.
Then the door swung back ferociously and smacked me in my face.
I stumbled and lost my balance on those ridiculously unnecessary 4 inch heels that I didn't even particularly like.
My carefully pinned back hair whipped and whirled and soon took on the character of a deserted squirrel nest.
I stumbled and fumbled and grasped my car door handle and threw my self inside.

I checked the rear view mirror and my mouth dropped at how 2 minutes in that wind had changed my appearance.
My stomach dropped.
The run.
The run.
This wind.
40+ mph winds on a long run was unthinkable.

I sat in church that morning, occasionally glancing out the side door only to find my hopes of seeing a still sunny day be swept away with the first Arkansan hurricane.
I tapped my foot ferociously as the minutes ran by me, reminding me I was about to trade my heels for a hat and my dress for dead legs.

But I'm no quitter.
But I'm no fear stricken child.
I always brave the run.
I always brave the consequences of going out on a run not knowing how nature or my own flesh will react.

That day the wind whipped my body back and forth on the road, so much it made me rethink skimping on food lately. Maybe that extra slice of pie would have made me less fragile and less moveable.
My hat flew off my head revealing my untamed pile of hair.
I groaned, grumbled and moaned with frustration.
It was cold, windy and I was running straight into winds that could move a car off the freeway.

I pushed myself up a good mile incline, wavering and rolling my ankle as I went.
My friends suggested turning back, the winds were too brutal that day.
We were at mile 8, there was no way I could do that.
If I had the bravery to dive into these conditions, I was not going to cut it short or take some detour.
This run was mine and I was going to fight for it, even if that meant the entire run was against headwinds determined to blow my tiny frame to Greenland.

Tears streamed down my face when I reached the point in the run where I was alone with myself and the wind.
It was too hard.
My arms were swinging 100 times per minute but I felt as if my legs had chains tied around them.
I was running in place, literally.
I was getting absolutely nowhere, so I decided to finally look up from the asphalt for the first time that day:
It was beautiful. The way the trees swayed to the beat of the wind and the waves of grass followed as a good dancing partner does.
Then I took a look at my body and felt myself moving to the same rhythm.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
I smiled and shook my head.
This entire time I was concerned with the headwinds that I hadn't taken the time to see what was actually happening!
I stopped swinging my arms like an Olympic track star, I threw my head back and looked at the sky above me, arms spread behind me like a toddler about to run down a hill for the very first time and flew.
Britney, ready for take off!
I soared and the sunshine danced on my freckled  face.
The wind was now a song of love and I was the DJ.
When I saw my car creeping up a small shred of disappointment swept over me.
That run was over, but my run wasn't.
I was saddened that it had taken me until the end of the run to bask in its goodness.
I remember the looks that people gave me as they drove by me that day on the side of the road.
Looks of disbelief and shock.
They were gripping to the interior of the safety of their vehicles and here I was exposing myself to dangerous elements.
But which was more dangerous?
Clinging to the comfort of your leather interior or braving the run.
So as useless is a ship in safe harbors is a person who refuses to face the headwinds.
At the end of the run, I looked up and saw figures standing at the end of the road.
They were the ones who started that run with me, braved it with me and ended it with me.
They were the ones who finished the run when I said I didn't desire to turn back because it was difficult.
On that day, they were my family, and we must take care of our family no matter where we find them.