Thinking out loud | 001
I’m sitting here eating my bagel after our long run. I nod at my friend’s comment, I laugh a little, trying to play it cool. Still sweaty. Still feeling a little heavier than I want to admit. Heavier than I want to let on.
I’m driving home afterward, letting the quiet fill the space. Just trying to sort through what the week meant. What those comments meant. How I even got here. It all rolled together in my head. One thought bumping into the next until it became something deeper. That’s what a good long effort does. It strips the noise away.
This sport/hobby/obsession keeps showing me things. That’s the part I didn’t expect when I started piling on miles years ago. The honesty. The strength it pulls out of you. But mostly it’s the people. I’m lucky. I know I am. I’ve shared so many miles with so many good humans and this weekend was a strong reminder. Three days of trail time. Easy chatter. Quiet stretches. Conversations that wandered wherever they wanted. The kind where you forget you’re even moving. These are the people I’ve been in the foxhole with. You don’t forget that kind of bond.
Still, some people just suck. They don’t deserve space in your head or your life. But I can’t let their energy bleed into me. No one can. You know the type. Vampires stuck on a treadmill of chaos, always the victim, always judging, never solving. I know everyone is fighting something, myself included. So I keep reminding myself to be a better man. To give grace even when it feels like swallowing glass. The world needs more of that. And sure, sometimes you have to say fuck em’, but don’t lose a single moment of yourself doing it.
Today’s long run felt different. The air was cold. The pace was slow. The kind of slow that gives your thoughts room to stretch out. It wrapped up my first big week back to structured work and that hit me harder than I expected. Not in a dramatic way. Just a quiet steady shift. Like I finally found my rhythm again after drifting for a while.
And somewhere in the middle of all these miles and conversations, I realized there are pieces of me that still need work. The kind of work you don’t notice until the people around you give those gentle nudges. And sometimes not so gentle. Both matter. Both sting. Both are gifts if you’re willing to hear them.
The end of the year has that same vibe. A blend of reflection and recalibration. Seeing strengths you didn’t know you had. Seeing weak spots you probably ignored for too long. I’ve been sketching out the adventures waiting for me next year. The ones that spark something in my chest. Even if the closest don’t always see or care. But I’m also clearing space. Letting go of the people, the environments, the habits that don’t fit where I’m going, where I want to be, how I want to feel. Like a snake shedding its skin, I’m ready to leave a layer behind and grow into whatever comes next.
And then there’s the heaviness that always shows up this time of year. The stress. The anxiety. That slow pressure that makes everything feel heavier than it should. I’ve felt that building too. But it’s not too late to reshape things. The way you show up in relationships. The work you pour yourself into. The way you greet the day. You get to set some of the weight down. You get to reach for something a little more light.
So I’m leaning into that. I think I need to step back from the noise for a bit. Be more present in the real world. More grounded. More connected. More here.
Still sorting it out. But it feels like the right direction. I’ve got time. After all, I’m just thinking out loud here.
