Alive

The one with a run and some gratitude.

May 01, 2026

Included this because a) it’s true and b) I was listening to some Noah on my run. ;)

This morning I went on a run, and at the risk of becoming a meme, I just need everyone to know.

I need everyone to know because it was my first run in months (nearly six, to be exact) and because gratitude is flooding my body, even now, hours after said run ended.

Life has been hard lately. Harder? Life’s always hard, isn’t it? For just about everyone. But 2026 has continued to keep me on my toes, like I mentioned in my last post. And running, something that used to be my obsession, my calling, my identity, has evaded me for the last few years, for a variety of reasons. And this year it was nonexistent. Scheduling issues, health hurdles, knee pain, you know — the usual. Seriously though, I really underestimated how difficult it would be to go for an outdoor run after having a baby, and this is from someone who has working out written into each of my days as if carved into cement; a non-question — I fit it in, no matter what, because movement is incredibly important to me. (Granted, most of the workouts are now done in my garage, but nevertheless…)

It’s important to me for all of the same reasons that running has always been important to me, but being on a run also has an uncanny way of reminding me I’m alive like nothing else.

Last week, I had a tough treatment appointment for my chronic illness (I’ve talked about this but if you’re new here, I have a chronic blood disorder and have since quite literally forever). I am used to these bumps in the road, but also the older I get, the more challenging they can feel to swallow and move on. The more difficult it’s become for me to compartmentalize like a champ, like I’ve been doing for as long as I’ve known that not everyone spends as much time in hospitals and doctors’ offices’ crappy fluorescent lighting. Mostly it’s fine and second nature, and I pride myself on my ability to move forward, but sometimes I’m frustrated, and scared, and, frankly, sad. And so last week’s appointment was a little anxiety-inducing and a lot inconvenient, and carried over into this week, which doesn’t usually happen. I had to go in for another treatment sooner than usual because of said bump in the road, which I really wasn’t looking forward to. But, this week was great. The appointment was great, and I was drenched in relief by the time I left. Gratitude seeping out of every one of my pores, sunlight beaming out of my face, I’m sure. Another one done, and another opportunity to feel better.

And then this morning, I did something I haven’t had a chance to do (or made the time to do) since November: I stepped outside my house and went for a run. I was cautiously optimistic, prepared for it to feel terrible after so long not doing it, but hopeful since I was essentially juiced up like Lance before those Tour de Frances. (This feels like a good moment to reflect on the fact that I had a big crush on him back in the day.) Anyways, I ran and I ran and I was alive and I was grateful.

I am alive and I’m grateful.

The endorphins did their job, people, because here I am writing a whole newsletter entry about the ~35 minutes I was laced up in my running shoes blasting a mix of Noah Kahan and early aughts jams.

But the running. It’s hard even when it’s easy, and God, I’m so thankful I could cry. Every time I didn’t have to stop because I was out of breath, every time I could go another step further than I expected. Every damn time I was reminded that I was able to be out there, sweating under the May Grey gloom, because once again, some lovely blood donors I’ll never know gave me another chance to do that. To breathe, to sweat, to hug my daughter, to annoy my husband by never closing the kitchen cabinets.

Another chance.

Another breath.

That is the reason I have doggedly stalked running, even after approximately a million injuries since I started running a couple decades or so ago. I’m not entirely sure what it is, but it’s the one type of workout that without fail makes me feel really, truly here. I workout at all largely because I know what it means if I can’t. I will move my body until I no longer can, somehow, some way.

And that’s all I came here to say, okay?

I ran and I ran.

I’m alive, and damn. It never gets old, how good that gratitude feels.

So Many Somethings

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