There’s that saying, “if walls could talk,” that presumably says they’d share with us all they’ve seen and heard. In my case, it’s “if the trees and pavement” at Kiroli park could talk. Cause man, those woods have seen it all from me. I’ve taken to those trails during every major and minor life change of mine. I’ve stomped it out through a flooded house, divorce, heartache, money problems, moving unexpectedly, and health scares. I’ve paced those paths on good days and bad and if those trees could talk…

Today was no different. There was nothing major today — just the steady feeling of unease. A relentless sense of anxiety and something in my soul told me I needed to get to this place of refuge. I left the dog at home, even though it was National Dog Day or something like that. I didn’t listen to that book I need to finish or an uplifting podcast from the queue. Instead, I turned on my a-little-bit-angry pandora station and took off. I even put earbuds in both ears because that’s how serious I was. I’m usually more cautious and make sure I can still hear if someone is coming up behind me. Not today. If I were to be taken, today wouldn’t be a bad day for it.

I walked and realized I was nearly at a run. To someone looking in, it would almost look like I was literally running from something and to be honest, I felt like I was.

What was I running from though? Things are really going quite well for me to feel so anxious right now. And yet somehow, I’ve felt off for the last several days. So I asked myself as the music blared through my ears, what is it that you’re running from? What are you afraid of?

So many things came to mind.

I’m afraid of not doing a good enough job.
I’m afraid of not hitting our work goal for the year.
I’m afraid of not being helpful enough.
I’m afraid of not using the right words for people I want to encourage.
I’m afraid of not getting enough done. Of not being enough.

And more importantly,
I’m afraid of missing out. On life. On getting to have more kids. On experiences. 
I’m afraid of not being a good enough bonus mom to these two kiddos I get to love.
I’m afraid of always being the villain in the other half of this story.

I’m afraid of never writing that book. Of never really telling my story.
I’m afraid that I’ll forever and always use my time for other things. Instead of what I really want to be doing.

I’m afraid of getting sick. Of getting cancer, specifically. Or losing all the people I love, like I’ve lost so many already.

My feet thundered on the pavement and I breathed hard. Sweat ran down on me and I think I would have have burst into tears if I weren’t already sweating and breathing so heavily. I didn’t have the energy to cry.

I kept asking myself, what would make me feel better or less afraid and I couldn’t answer. I just needed to walk faster and turn the music up louder. It wasn’t until I’d made it all the way back around the park and it threatened to close that I felt I could leave.

I left without clear answers about what was chasing me or had me so anxious. I also couldn’t tell what I needed to feel at peace. I just knew the right thing in this moment was to walk faster and listen to the music louder and louder and to leave as much of that anxiety as I could in those woods.

I didn’t know the next right thing to do that day. I just knew I needed to get to those trails. This is a feeling I get often, a gentle nudge towards that park. Towards outside. I am reminded time and time again that how I sort through things in my life is by walking, sometimes hard and fast and sometimes slow and easy, and always outside. Those evening walks are often my therapy, my release. It’s how I process and unwind. It’s how I let out a lot of the things that force their way into my mind. It inspires me and makes me feel that all is right with the world. I started The Next Right Thing by Emily Freeman this past week and she talks about the input being automatic. So much information forces its way into our brains. Where’s the output though? When/how does some of that information leave? We can’t and shouldn’t keep it all trapped inside. Those trails are my output. With each step, it feels like I’m releasing something that was trapped inside of me. Thank goodness. 

I understand that some people might not have this attachment and love of walking and the outdoors. If not, I hope you know what your thing is. For me, this is how I stay centered and sane. The more often I do it, the better I feel. I wrote the first half of this post before the Friday the 13th/full moon hell week. To say that I needed it after that week of nonsense, would be an understatement. That Friday walk at the park might have kept me out of a straight jacket that week. Thank you, Kiroli Park. You’re the real MVP.