I am running again. It feels different. I am more respectful of my body, trying to be in tune, to listen. I follow the rules and ask people who know better for advice. But the biggest change is that instead of feeling proud of myself for getting out there to run, I am grateful for the fact that I can.

You know, you live for 30+ years and think you know who you are. What kind of person you happen to be – impatient or kind or talented, what you like and dislike, what triggers your fears and what makes you happy. But the truth is you don’t. Or rather you can’t stay detached enough to watch your own behaviour and take notes. Adjust. Improve, if that’s what you want. Change, if that’s what’s needed. When was the last time you’ve made a rational decision based on the knowledge of your own weaknesses?

Maybe there are some things you do know. I knew for quite some time that I am a proud person. I enjoyed being righteous in my youth (which sounds as boring as it actually was). I evolved and righteously laughed off my own and other people’s righteousness. I am spiralling up on the Y scale of egocentricity without any chance for humility.

So what do we proud kind of folk do when it comes to anything? We bite more than we can chew. There’s a positive self-image in our mind that doesn’t fully correspond to reality (although it could with time and patience), and we just won’t admit there is a gap today. “Run for just 30 seconds? Me? I can run way more than that!” “Exercise a couple times a week? Now that I have committed to exercising, I’ll do it every day!”

This “I” that decides on raising the bar out of reach – is that really me? Does this voice come out of respect for my body, self-knowledge, wisdom? What insecurity is it trying to mask?

I am tired of I. Never before has me enjoyed simply following instructions. Leaving that calculating mind at home, feeling so much lighter and happier without.