Today I had the enormous fortune of having time to go for a run. According to my Nike+ running app, the last run I went to was in July 2013. Part of me wants to say that it’s inaccurate, but it probably is. I basically lived in the Zumba studio for much of 2013, 2014 and until 28 weeks pregnant in August of 2015. I even ran in Zumba shoes as I no longer even own regular sneakers. This was my first time attempting to run post-partum — However, this post isn’t actually about the run (it was challenging, and I was a sweaty mess after), but it’s about what I saw, and then what I saw beyond.

My building has a tiny one-room gym that hosts a couple of machines for aerobic exercise and assorted weights. I chose a treadmill right by the window, so that I could at least pretend that I was outside. About half way through my run, I haopene

For the last 15 minutes of my run, which were admittedly the most challenging, I stated at that snow-Rafiki face almost into a state of trance.

Then he was gone.

And then I was gone.

I was suddenly aware of my body continuing to move while my mind, and perhaps part of my consciousness went somewhere else. I saw myself observing life from a bird’s eye view- I left the gym, the building, the city…and felt that I could just float. Time seemed to stop and start at will — and bend, and loop. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that I was running, that every drop of sweat took with it the stresses of my week- all that mattered was that life still exists.

This past year, although beautiful beyond anything I imagined, has been admittedly challenging. Pregnancy and motherhood transcend reality in how they can transform someone’s life. I like to say that I went into the hospital as one person and came out as someone different — stronger, calmer, more whole. There are moments when I wonder where that other person went — is she still inside me? Did she float away in one of my contraction-induced visualizations? That person carried many wounds and, at times, still buried herself in them- hiding in the velvety embrace of not feeling good enough. Pity parties are far beyond appealing — and that’s why you get to hog all the potato chips.

It’s odd — I used to run for the calories. I would obsessively pound my feet down I hit the magic number I wanted to subtract from my intake- and then run some more. This time, I ran because I wanted to feel free. Exercise has always been my place of freedom and escape…Motherhood is beautiful — and it is also messy, and draining, and tiring, and stressful. Eventually where all this brought me to was this question- If I could bring anything back from my

The answer is a resounding — NO. What this little time/space break allowed me to see is that even though my identity as “mommy” has asserted itself over who I am, I am actually cherishing the jumble everywhere else. Having these 42 weeks of introspection and the now 12 weeks and counting of daily marathons in raising baby Z has made me see how many more layers there are to us than we even realize. I see people through a different lens- one that feels sharper, and perhaps- even more understanding than before.

So I ran…and in that run, I went out, in, and started to see what new depths lie ahead…

In The Lion King, Rafiki tells Simba, “The past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it or learn from it.”

Either way, I’ll go for a run and see where it takes me.