The cold air rushing through my hair, the gentle pace of freedom. The sense of being a creature of nature, the feeling of power hidden in my body, the stories of my ancestors flowing through my blood. I still can’t stop imagining myself running alongside the car, becoming faster and faster. A horse on the grasslands of the ancient Persian empire. A warrior in the stealthy night.

It’s been two years.

I haven’t run more than the length of the school since spring of freshmen year. I had originally joined Track to prove to myself that I was capable, that I could run an hour or more a day five times a week. For others, it is not a great feat by any means. They run miles and miles and miles. They run as if that is the only way they can truly breathe. They withstand the pressures of a hard workout, mentally and physically.

But it was too much for me. I ran for three months, never missed more than three days of practice. In that sense, I did accomplish what I had set out to do. But the longer it went on, the more I tortured myself. Mentally, I shut myself down. The thought of running filled me with stomach-clenching dread. The constant knowledge that I would definitely end the day exhausted, out of breath, screaming silently, ate me up inside. I was always the slowest one, always the most unfit. It was my first time exercising like this in my fifteen years of life. I felt it was no excuse, and although there were moments of great joy and even pride, for stepping outside of my comfort zone, I began to hate running. Or the thought of it. Or of anyone telling me to push on, when I felt no inclination to do so.

The only times I felt free and released from these biting worries were the runs I did entirely on my own, by no one’s command. I could be at peace, running at the speed I chose, for whatever distance.

I do miss the feeling of running. I did like some parts of Track. But I can never go back.

There are certain things I must explore on my own. I love dancing. I love moving the way I do, with no boundaries, no lines; only the music to guide me and my soul. If someone told me how to dance, I would feel trapped. If I see and learn for myself, I grow – if the only boundaries are the ones I set for myself. The creativity has to be set loose, I have to run wild.

I do not regret that spring two years ago. I learned a great deal, and I will never forget it. It’s not that I don’t want to improve or sweat or gasp for breath. I do want to enjoy running. For me, Track is not the place. And it’s only now that I realize – it is ok. It is ok not to be athletic, to not join a team. It is ok to run slowly, or at a fast pace. It is ok to just run.

I find it hard to take the initiative. It will be hard to do so every day. But I also know that I feel a deep sense of longing whenever I see runners dash toward the morning sun. I continue to imagine myself running… I know I will find the courage one day. Not only to run but let myself love it and embrace every step, every breath, every sweat, every smile.