The First Mile

I went for a run today. The first one since I’ve come back from a runless four months in Tanzania. While I did get to do a lot of walking, April was an especially sedentary month. So today, everything was looking really perfect because it wasn’t snowing or raining. I walked for five minutes and then started to run. My legs protested immediately as if I had concrete in my shoes. The bargaining stage of running began soon after: “Just do five minutes.” “Look! A downhill!” “You can make it to the next street”. When it was all done, I was out for 1.8 miles and I had run 1.2 of that. My form fell back into line, my lungs strained gloriously to grab at the thin air, and as I walked downhill for my cooldown, I felt a little bit more back to normal. Getting over two inches of hair chopped off helped with that too.

So now I’m wrapping up an afternoon of unpacking and settling in. As soon as I got home from Tanzania, I had to start moving things out of my parent’s house. And that’s been hard too, because I’ve been living with the same 100 items or so for the past four months and doing just fine. So coming back to households in transition has been a challenge. In Tanzania, I wore stinky tired clothes and I lived in the present. I have a small paper trail of half-finished notebooks and a bunch of pictures. Bas. But now I have to meet with a paper trail I’ve been keeping my whole life, things like my father’s stamp collection, sketches I did between AP Art projects, my prom dresses.

I’m not too worried, though. I’ll curate my personal history the same way I run. One mile at a time.