I have this memory from my preteen years of being in Door County, staying at my grandparents’ cottage, and watching a runner go by. She was running up the hill that leads away from the public beach and wearing just a sports bra. She looked strong and beautiful and though I didn’t think so at the time, typing this out now, I think there is more gayness to this moment than my young self could realize . . .
But I do remember thinking I wanted to be her. Be strong enough to go on runs like she was. Be confident enough to run with my stomach showing. I was already into the body insecure years that are a right bitch to shake off.
This memory flooded back to me today as I ran up that same hill this morning, wearing a cropped top running shirt, belly showing, feeling strong. It carried me up the hill and brought tears to my eyes for a moment. Because I was here, I was doing it, and though I am not everything my young self wanted me to be (I’m not rocking a six-pack after all), I am what she needed. I am what I needed.
I stretched on the dock later, catching my breath, feeling the wind skim across the lake and soothe my skin, and embraced that runner’s high that’s felt elusive to me all summer.
Today it felt like a deep gratitude.
With Love,
Natalie