Running in a new city is by far my favorite way to get my bearings. Okay, so sometimes my runs turn out to be slightly longer than anticipated when a wrong turn or dead end comes into play, but that only means that I can eat more ice cream afterwards.
After spending the day applying to jobs, running errands, and researching anything and everything that I can do to fill my free time, I needed to get out. Out of my apartment and out of my own over-thinking brain. I tie my running shoes extra tight and head out the door to go exploring.
One of the many things about this city that inspires me is the number of people that are out running at any given time, especially at night when the city seems to calm down and take a big sigh of relief. In finding my stride and my steady breath, I feel as if I'm being initiated into a really cool, not-so-secret society of people who love exploring the city streets as much as I do. We smile as we pass each other and marvel at the statuesque embassies stapled by flags and old homes littered with pumpkins and crunchy yellow leaves. Every street holds its own hidden (and some not so hidden) pockets of antique American beauty.
But as I'm running through Georgetown, all of a sudden the nervousness I felt in my first couple days of being here throws me off balance and I'm tripping over my own feet. The questions start flooding my mind and won't stop... "When will I get a job?" "What should I do tomorrow?" "Did I waste precious time today?" "Should I have applied to that job instead..?" And they continue until I finally stop. I have to stop. Not even the music pumping through my earphones drowns out the angst.
I stand there for a moment, looking at the old brick sidewalk cracked and overgrown with moss, manipulated by tree roots and interrupted by metal street signs. But it's still there, standing beneath me and offering a path forward, even if it is slightly torn up and uneven. I take a deep breath, pick up my foot and take a step forward. Repeat and repeat and repeat. The stride comes back, this time with honest purpose. Each step leaves behind a brief puddle of anxiety. Faster and faster I feel lighter and happier and more me that I have in a week and a half. Huh. Now I remember why I love this so much.
Walking up the stairs to my apartment, my legs are tired and cold from the night air. My heart slows to a steady rhythm and my breath quickly follows. Some lingering feelings of anxiety attempt to sneak in through the cracks, but I let them fall away. There's no room for them here. Maybe they'll be back tomorrow for a brief stint of stress, but my running shoes will be at the door. Waiting patiently for another night out.
