The Storm

I've spent my whole life trying to outrun my fears.

Dodging around rain clouds of doubt, anxiety, darkness, insecurity; always trying to fight my way toward patches of sunshine. 

Then I encountered a storm that was too big, too dark, too powerful. I could see it on the horizon chasing me down. I knew every time I saw it coming that I was so fucking doomed. So I ran harder than I ever had, driven by my quaking fear. 

But there was no outrunning it; grief storm had me cornered. Wearily I turned to face it as I crumpled to the ground. In my surrender it raged over me and turned me inside out. 

The storm re-calibrated me like mountains have done to the hills I run at home, the north did to our winter winds, and my ultras have done to my ability to endure all that fear.

Now the sky is clearing, the winds are subsiding and the sun is starting to warm the ground I rest on. I am sensing a calmness and a trust rising up in me. I know I'll never be the same. 

I would give it all back a thousand times over to have my mother back. With her passing she left us each some of her mighty courage. We need it, and I don't intend to squander her gift.

I'm through with running away.