Not the usual dreams where someone is chasing me and my feet have become one with the cement. But the kind that mean freedom. Last night in my dream, it was raining and I was running in my new shoes. And laughing.
You see, last night, I bought running shoes. Not last night in my dream, but last night in an athletic store. The very place I usually shun and gripe about having to enter because there's nowhere proper to read my Kindle while my husband and son drool over soccer balls and cross trainers.
I've been wanting to go running for awhile now, ever since my lungs opened up and the asthma went to be wherever asthma goes when you radically change your diet. If you have known me since childhood, you'll know that running is only something I do while trying to outpace a wasp. I was the kid who would do anything to avoid gym class, would break out in hives every Wednesday just moments before P.E. I was the kid who always got hit in the head with the volley ball.
But now I want to go running. And standing in line at the checkout last night, I felt like I was holding more than a new pair of shoes. I was holding a milestone.
I'm not going to do this to prove something to myself. I'm not going to do it to prove something to others, or to complete an experiment for a book. I'm going to do it because I want to. I really want to.