01/06/2026
I’ve been sitting with a lot lately around identity.
This past weekend, I ran a race.
And I almost didn’t go.
Not because I couldn’t. But because something is shifting in me…
and I’m not quite sure what to do with it.
For years, I’ve identified as a runner.
The kind who trained hard, chased PRs, ran through pain, and showed up to the start line with fire.
Running gave me strength. Discipline.
Confidence. Community.
It made me feel capable — like an athlete.
But lately?
That edge… it feels softer.
I’m not racing as much.
Not running as far.
Not tracking my pace.
And part of me finds peace in that.
The freedom of a casual run.
The joy of movement without pressure.
The way my nervous system exhales a little deeper when I’m not pushing.
But I won’t lie — another part of me fights it.
Because who am I without the push?
Without the edge?
Without the proof of effort and finish times?
Will I lose my spark if I let myself soften?
Will I fall apart if I stop striving?
And maybe… this is just a season.
Maybe she’s not gone — just quiet.
That part of me who ran toward challenge, chased PRs, and pushed through the hard…
She still lives inside me.
Some days I feel her rising.
Other days, I don’t.
But I’m learning to trust the ebb as much as the fire.
To let it all belong.
Even the not knowing.
It’s vulnerable to share this.
To admit I’m in the middle of something I don’t fully understand yet.
But if you’re here too, in a space of becoming, of shifting, of softening,
I just want you to know:
You’re not alone.
And we’re not lost.
We’re evolving. 💛