Blowing off steam. Blowing of steam has been my newest favorite pastime. I spent many good years of my life running and swimming and doing it for fun but mostly within the confines of team and invitations and flip turned into a baton hand off until I reached adulthood. I loved sports. I loved the ability to feel freedom in the pounding against my legs as I speed up at the end of every run. My father had taught me this trick that even after a jog you run fast and hard at the end. And believe you me it came in handy in the races of life both competitive or not. The wheels of myself going more quickly and feeling as if they might give out but on the brink of letting go- the freedom of speed- the freedom of myself. That I could get it anytime I needed it. And running. Running became a way to pound out the discomfort of adolescence and the way I spent my afternoons for many years of my life. And it helped that I was good at it. Not the best of the best but good enough to be choose for the relays and to place.
But somewhere in my relationship with running we became distant in our feelings toward one another. I dreaded doing it. And did it. Only for that scholarship. I didn't feel freedom anymore. When I put on those shoes to run- I felt dread. Dread for being awake so early. Dread for not being able sleep in. And dread for the practice I'd have to later that day. Running became a job. And the chore of it sucked the pleasure and flying from my bones and muscles and left was the feeling of contempt. Contempt I had for one of my first loves of my life. We had changed. We both had. So after my final season of my running career, I did what anyone would do or so I thought. I gave up exercise. I took up drinking and partying and smoking and being an undergraduate like everyone else. Reverse psychology on myself didn't work as I planned. Me and running broke up and she didn't come after me when she saw the back of my body sway back and forth surrounded by friends and the smoke of ways to forget her.
I didn't miss her. I didn't care about her. And I kept my relationships with my new and more exciting friends until one day I woke up and realized. Something was missing. The blowing of the steam. Could never be replaced in alcoholic binge drinking that left me more clueless than I began and apologetic and hurting the next day. Smoking could only be cool for so long and soon the honeymoon wore off and I was addicted. Me the athlete addicted to cigarettes. Blowing off the steam- I needed it. I needed the release and freedom of the movement of my feet faster and harder and longer than I thought I could. I needed the pound of my chest in and out and rattling me to let go and learn again. I needed the sweat pouring down my face and head and limbs with my reddish face to remind me. That I am athlete and the blowing off the steam has always been my freedom. So I didn't call up running. I decided to try something new someone who would give me everything I had before because I was too scared to run. And that is how I found yoga. Yoga and one day I would find myself when I needed it most after a hard day of hearing others pains of life that I laced my shoes up and ran. Again.