The First Run of the Season

It’s that time of year again – when Spring stops being bipolar and the sunshine and warm weather moves back in. I look forward to this time every year, because it means I can return to my run/walks.

I started my running/walking journey about 6 years ago. It began with daily walks with my friend Marie. We would walk for 4+ miles, and it felt amazing. We got our exercise in – and a much-needed dose of Vitamin D. We would talk the entire time about life and dreams and struggles. These walks were life giving.

That Fall I moved a couple of towns over, and our walks stopped. I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since.

My first run/walk of the year is always hard. There are mixed emotions surrounding it.
There are the memories of previous years that excite you – the accomplishments you made and how you felt afterwards. The personal records you hit and sometimes even beat. And you can’t wait to feel that way again.

But then reality sets in – you haven’t run in over six months. You know you will be somewhat starting over, and you know that you may not be able to run/walk as far or as fast as you used to.

Even with the fear and anxiety that come with starting again – I love it. I love pushing myself to accomplish something new. I still want to beat my personal record. Those first few weeks of running and sore muscles remind me that I’m accomplishing something.

I was never really a runner in Florida. I tried a few times, but I never really stuck with it. I’m not exactly sure why it never stuck… but it’s hard not to love it here in Connecticut. Even my average-Joe neighborhood feels beautiful this time of year. I love seeing the trees come back to life and the flowers popping up.

But the issue with running outdoors in Connecticut is that I can’t do it year-round. Once the temperatures drop to the 50’s and the wind starts picking up, it’s too cold for me. And because I’m not running all year long, every Spring when the warm air comes back, I must start over again. And that’s not easy for someone like me who is an “achiever.”

At first, starting over was hard. I would get frustrated with myself – sometimes pushing myself too hard, or other times giving up.

But over the years I have learned to have a little more grace with myself. I’ve come to accept that it’s going to take me time to build up to running as far as I used to. And to bring my time back down to where it once was. I’ve also had to accept that my body isn’t the same as it was last year.

Last week as I was on my run/walk, taking in the scenery around me, I noticed a busted up sidewalk on my route. It’s always had some cracks, but this year, it was in pieces. I was surprised to see how bad it’s gotten – but I guess that’s what happens when you go more than six months without walking that route.

Some paths aren’t as smooth as they once were. That doesn’t mean we stop walking.

If I’m honest… I didn’t get much walking/running in last year. Life took a turn last summer, and I’m still carrying some of that with me. So it’s really been closer to two years since I’ve ran this path regularly. A lot has changed in that time.

There’s still a lot of heaviness I haven’t quite unpacked. But letting my feet hit the pavement felt like a great start. I was excited to see what my time would be for my first run back, but I’m also aware that sometimes even little things like a busted sidewalk can slow you down.

And that’s when I heard the whisper…

Not only do I need to give myself grace –
because I haven’t done this in a long time.
And because my body is not the same as it was last year,
But also because the world around me isn’t the same as it used to be.

I carefully stepped around the busted sidewalk, took a deep breath, and started running.

My run/walk ends by entering my neighborhood through a different entrance than I started. It’s at the bottom of a pretty decent size hill. I used to run up the giant hill to get home. But now I take the winding trail behind our buildings – it’s gentler on my joints. It’s not a straight shot, but it gets me there. And the scenery is prettier too.

Not the straightest path - but still leads me home.

And the view is better :)

As I was finishing up my walk, I thought to myself…
this doesn’t just apply to exercising as we get older – but it applies to life in general.

Life is full of seasons too. And sometimes we may need to put things on pause for a while. It may be for a season or two… or sometimes even longer.

It can be hard to face “starting over” when Spring comes back around.

But I need to remember –
Just because I had to put it down for a season doesn’t mean that I can’t make the climb again.

It may not look the same.
My route may look different than it did before.
I have been through so much since I started this journey, which means I’m no longer the same as I once was.
The world around me has also changed.
There are cracks that weren’t once there, and I may need to walk around them.
It may slow me down.

But it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t keep going.
I need to give myself grace and enjoy the scenery on the windy route.

I showed up.
I climbed the hill, even if it wasn’t the straightest path.
And I still made it home.

Maybe for you, starting again looks like…

• Returning to work after a season of being home with your kids.

• Starting a new job – or even a new career.

• Navigating health challenges that have changed what your body can do.

• Rebuilding financially after a setback.

• Opening your heart again after loss, heartbreak or disappointment.

• Becoming a parent for the first time… or all over again.

• Letting go of friendships that no longer fit – and finding your people again.

• Moving to a new place, a new community, or a new stage of life.

• Or simply finding the energy to try again… when you’re not sure if you can.

Whatever your new season looks like –
Whatever hill you are facing –

Remember to be kind to yourself.
It’s okay if your pace is slower.
It’s okay if your path is different.
It’s okay to begin again.

PS – The first run of the 2025 season surprised me.
My time wasn’t the best… but it was much better than I thought it would be.

And the scenery… was beautiful.

Still standing. Still smiling. Still going.