IT Band Update and Getting Back to Basics


I mentioned before that I had an IT band injury, or more specifically, I had IT Band Syndrome, which is a pretty common overuse injury in runners. I have been going through physical therapy for the last two and a half months and was able to run very little during that time, but Monday was officially my last day of physical therapy. I’ve been okayed as healed! WOOHOO!

The physical therapist says that my IT band syndrome looks good now, and with his blessing, two weeks ago I began running again, starting with just 1 mile. I’ve been slowly increasing it and am currently at 2.5 miles per run. I plan to increase it to about 4 miles and hold that steady until I feel strong enough to run longer distances. I am deathly afraid of overdoing it, since about halfway through my physical therapy, I made the dumb mistake of doing a 5 miler and two soccer games, all in one weekend, and my leg paid dearly for that stupidity. So I don’t plan on making that mistake again.

Tonight I rode the subway home with a coworker, and he asked me how my physical therapy was going. It turned out that he once had a very serious rock climbing accident, and had to go through extensive physical therapy himself for six months. I told him that I was officially done with PT as of Monday, and he asked me an unexpected question: “Did you feel sad to say goodbye to your physical therapist?”My coworker said that he himself felt sad to say goodbye to his physical therapist, since that person was able to commiserate with him and serve as support during his recovery. I was glad that he asked that question, because I DID feel a little sad about biding my physical therapist farewell, and I was a little embarrassed at the feeling.

There was a point about a month ago when I suddenly felt very depressed about my injury. This is not the first time I’ve had a running-related injury, but this was the most serious and painful injury so far, and for some reason, I took it a lot harder than I expected. I did my best to put on a cheerful face and stay positive, but I felt weak and helpless and as if something precious was taken away from me. I went through the motions of therapy, but only half-heartedly did my exercises and barely cut back on mileage. I was in constant pain because of it, even when not running.

After my stupid two-soccer-games-in-a-row incident, my physical therapist finally banned me from running completely for several weeks. I nearly burst into tears upon hearing the order. He could tell how upset I was and said, “Look, I understand how you feel. But I’m telling you that you have to do something hard during the short term for your long term good. Believe me, I understand how hard it is. I’ve been training for a marathon and have not been able to run for a month due to injury too. But if you do the exercises I give you, you’ll come back stronger than before.” I thought, “Man, if my dinky 20 something mileage was hard to give up, it must have been terrible giving up 50+ miles a week! I really shouldn’t be whining about this.”

It was nice though to have someone understand how sad I felt, and of course, he understood the reality of my physical pain. It wasn’t really something I could voice to my family and friends, since most of them could not understand, even if I tried to explain. At best, the gym rats among them would just say, “Do something else then! Use the elliptical! Do Pilates!” And I’d just think, you don’t understand. It’s not the same. I feel like a loser. At worst, my friends who didn’t exercise at all would think I was just rubbing my exercise routine in their faces. If I complained about how horrible I felt about exercising less, they would see it as a judgment on them. And I didn’t want to be a complainer anyway. So the answer to my coworker’s question was, yes, I did feel sad saying goodbye to the one person who understood and helped me and listened without criticism. I guess it wasn’t such an unusual feeling after all.

But I took my physical therapist’s words to heart and decided to keep staying positive. After all, I essentially had a first world problem: I had so much extra leisure time on my hands, that I could just run around for fun. I didn’t even need to run around to feed my family or for transportation. I just did it because I enjoyed it. And I ran so much that I injured myself! How silly!

I also decided to use the break as a way to get back to basics. I’ve been putting on weight, partially because of not being able to run, but truth be told, mostly because I’ve been eating terribly. My office is filled with junk food everywhere you look, which was something I was unused to before, and I’ve been having trouble saying no to it. But I only have myself to blame — no one has been forcing me to eat it. So I’ve been focused on cleaning up my diet. I’ve also been channeling my energy into getting stronger. In particular, I’m working on improving my deadlift, and I am happy to say that I’ve made some strides in that regard. For conditioning, I’ve been diligently using the elliptical. To be sure, it’s super boring, but hey, I just repeat to myself: It’s a first world problem. It’s a first world problem.

I’m glad about my recovery and glad to be back. I plan to take it easy for now and focus on improving overall health rather than mileage, but boy, and I glad to be running again!

Vulnerability and Taking Risks

I once was acquainted with someone who had the perfect upbringing and history. This person grew up in one of the wealthiest suburbs of Boston, graduated at the top of his high school class, went on to an Ivy League college, and was completing his PhD at another Ivy League institution. His resume boasted glowing recommendations and placements at some of Boston’s most prestigious tech firms. He was well-dressed, extremely polite, and had that genteel yet stoic sort of humor peculiar to many New Englanders. His jokes were always in good taste, and it was clear that he thought carefully through the consequences of each of his words before he spoke. He was as straight-laced as can be — even his nose seemed rigidly straight. If this were the 1820s and if eugenics were not passé, one would have described him as “well-bred”.

In short, he was typical of a lot of people you meet in Boston: well-educated, well-to-do, and well-mannered.

At the time I was self-conscious of how I seemed in contrast to him. I’ve made a lot of mistakes and have never walked a very straight and smooth course.  I come from a working class background, and I worry that it shows in my manners. I gear switch between being awkwardly stoic and awkwardly earnest, sometimes blurt out things without thinking, and quite literally guffaw when I laugh. I may think of myself as scrappy, resourceful, and determined, but I believe that resiliency was developed as a result of shortcomings and failure after disappointing failure. After all, what sort of person is a “scrappy” person? It’s the the underdog — the underdeveloped weakling who resolutely puts up a good fight against a larger bully. A scrappy person is not someone who has always lived a charmed life.

That ember of self-consciousness burned inside me whenever I was with this acquaintance. I felt small and grubby next to him and almost felt as if I needed to check my nails every time I was around him, in case I had accidentally left some dirt underneath them. I told a good friend of mine about the inferiority complex which bubbled to the surface whenever I was around this person, and he said something which I will never forget: “People like that don’t take risks, which makes them fail profoundly in ways which are not visible.”

I laugh now when I think back on how insecure I felt then. I’m now much more concerned with how strong  someone’s character is than his or her resume, and I work in an industry (software) which has a culture that is at its core anti-elitist and anti-establishment. But there is a point to this anecdote: I’ve been thinking a lot about my vulnerability project, and I realized that an essential part of allowing yourself to be vulnerable is the willingness to take risks. You can play it safe and avoid risk, but you will fail profoundly in ways in which only you will know and regret.

For almost one year I’ve avoided any sort of risk at all costs. This is because I felt as if I had already fulfilled my risk quota for a long while at least…quitting my job without another job in place had taken a lot out of me! I’ve tried not to make waves, and I maintain several contingency plans in case one thing or another does not work out. But I’ve taken no real risks. Not disturbing the status quo has become my goal in life. The benefit to this is that while I haven’t really failed this year at anything, I don’t think I have accomplished as much as I had hoped, either.

To progress you need to walk on the adjacent uncomfortable. You can’t live in that zone, but you need to straddle the line and occasionally even dash across it. I’m not sure if I am ready just yet to run across that line, but my first experiment in my vulnerability project is to take little exercises in risk. No, I am not going to take up sky diving or playing chicken with trains, but I already have a few ideas in mind. Stay tuned!

When I Decided to Stop Being Cynical

Several years ago I made the decision to stop being cynical.

It was a quiet decision which I made on my own, and I was dead set on implementing it successfully. I made no announcement about it. I didn’t post a Facebook status update about it, and I didn’t announce it on any blog. I knew that it would have seemed to my friends to be too uncharacteristic a goal, and I felt that I didn’t need their sympathy or encouragement anyway. This would be a secret project of mine. Writing about this here is the first time I have told anyone that I did this.

A few weeks after I made the decision to stop being cynical, I paid a sincere compliment to a co-worker. He laughed and said, “Oh Shelley, always so cynical and cracking jokes.” I remember feeling surprised by how hurt I was that he did not believe that I was being genuine. I stopped the urge to defend myself and saw that there was no way to protest this accusation without being bumbling and awkward, so I just smiled at him instead in the most non-cynical way the muscles in my face could manage. It was an unnatural expression for my face at the time, and my co-worker seemed startled by it.

I am a methodical person by nature, and I am a planner. I monitor everything, including even the fluctuations of my own body (which gives me hypochondriac tendencies) and I try to take in as much data points as I can to come up with solutions. I am fanatical about project plans. As I’ve gotten older I’ve learned to go with the flow more, but I will always prefer a well-thought out plan. When I made the decision to stop being cynical, however, it was very difficult to come up with a game plan. It seemed too broad a goal. How could I break it down into smaller components of a project plan? What sort of benchmarks could I use to check if I had reached my goal?

I decided to start with its most salient manifestation and begin with my sense of humor. At some point in middle school I had somehow developed a very biting, caustic style of humor. Irony was a weapon for me, and I wielded it freely and recklessly. I certainly wasn’t like that as a child – home videos show a bubbly child with a loud laugh and a huge smile. If anything, I had too much empathy: I was the girl who had to do her best to not cry in class if the teacher showed a sad movie. The change was probably a natural result of dealing with the new increasing pressures of middle school. I went from being a well-liked student in a small elementary school with students whom I had known my whole life to being bullied in a large middle school full of strangers. I was not the first teenaged girl who became cynical as a protective mechanism.

I spent a lot of time as a teenager writing humorous short stories that showcased my new cynical worldview. They usually starred protagonists who were in the lowest depths of their lives as they dealt with absurd situations. I peppered by sentences with excessive use of adjectives and overly elaborate descriptions of menial tasks. I fancied myself as a neophyte S.J. Perelman of sorts, except this incarnation of him was a smart, sassy, Asian-American girl with a love for alternative rock.

That prickly sense of humor followed me all the way into my 20’s. I carried it as a badge of honor and told myself that it cut through the BS and that I told the truth. When it alienated others, I told myself that they simply had thin skin and that they didn’t understand. I felt that it related to the other harder aspects of my personality which I valued: I didn’t tolerate BS and I got shit done, yo.

This all changed when I went through an event in my mid-twenties which was very traumatic for me. I visualize that time as a grenade going off inside of me, ricocheting around my insides and sterilizing everything in its blast. I found myself picking up the pieces and reevaluating what I believed. It led to a chain reaction of events that eventually caused me to leave my job in pursuit of a new career path, but the first baby step that led up to that moment was the decision to discard the cynicism. I wanted to wave the darkness away and replace it with light.

It’s been a few years since I made that decision, and while I can’t call my experiment a resounding success, I think that at the very least I am much less cynical than I was before. I still sometimes have a sharp sort of humor if I don’t catch myself. I still consciously need to bite my tongue sometimes from saying something dark. I still have the ability to diagnose someone’s greatest insecurity and wound that person very deeply with it – all in “good humor”, of course! It’s something with which I am still ashamed of and something with which I actively struggle. It’s natural, I suppose – how do you kick a habit that you’ve had for so long? Sometimes I fear that it is hard-coded within me and impossible to eradicate, but the optimistic part of me which believes in having a growth mindset instead of a fixed mindset rejects this idea.

It’s funny, but it is only the past couple of weeks when it really clicked for me why I became cynical in the first place, though this is probably obvious to you by now. The prickliness and sarcasm and cynicism was a shield which served to protect me from being vulnerable. They were symptoms of a much larger problem: I was and still am deathly afraid of being exposed. I may have sunnier mannerisms, but I still am the same guarded person I always was. I am still the person who keeps her cards close, who uses politeness as a white-gloved gauntlet, who finds it difficult to get to know people very well, and who can’t bring herself to declare her feelings to the person she loves.

This has been a bombshell realization for me. So I’ve come up with a new project for myself: I want to be more vulnerable. I understand that there is a very broad goal, and just like my struggle with cynicism, there will be no sign announcing, “You’re here!” It will be a gradual process that will probably never end. For now though, I’ve assigned this as a goal to me for the next year. 

It looks as if the rest of 2015 and the rest of 2014 will be an interesting ride.

A Quick Update

Wow. It’s been a really long time since I’ve updated this blog!

Not totally surprising, to be honest. I do have a tendency to start and then neglect blogs. But that’s okay, since I am back once again :)

I have a lot of updates.

First of all, the main reason why I have been neglecting this blog is because I have been working at a new job for the past 10 months. (I suppose it’s not a new job anymore, but this information may be new to readers of this blog.) As I mentioned before in previous posts, I wanted to get into healthcare, and I found a job in a healthcare IT startup.

At first I found my new job difficult, since I had almost no experience in technology and zero experience in healthcare. For many months, even understanding the terminology and the words being thrown around was difficult. I felt as if I had to spend all of my extra time simply catching up on the basics, and things like this blog started to fall by the wayside. Overall though my new job has been a great experience, and I am happy and grateful to be in an environment where I’m able to learn so much.

Running continues to be a big part of my life, and I ran an official half-marathon race at the Nike Women’s Half Marathon DC in April. (I’ve completed that distance before, but this was my first time running in an official half marathon race.) My goal was to complete the race in 1:55, and I had a finishing time of 1:55:40. I’ll just take the extra 40 seconds and consider it a goal met.


Tired and sweaty, but happy in DC

The past couple of months, however, I’ve been struggling with an IT band injury and have had to go through physical therapy. The injury is not serious, and the fix for it is pretty straightforward, and the doctor tells me I should be okay in about a month and a half. Unfortunately this meant that I had to cut back a lot on running and had to stop playing soccer, but I’ve been trying to stay positive about it by lifting weights and becoming good friends with the elliptical trainer. It’s been a bit difficult being forced to cut back on something that is such an outlet for me, but I try to see it as a “vacation” when I get to do whatever I want fitness-wise without worrying about my running training being affected.

Overall, I am very happy. Life is pretty placid and good — there have not been many changes, but life is happy and good. I have a few friends whom I only get to see every two or three months, and I find it kinda funny how they usually have so many interesting news to tell, while I usually don’t have much to say: “Still the same job, still running, still playing soccer, still the same group of friends.”

Lately, though, I realized that even though there isn’t anything dramatic happening on the surface, I feel as though inwardly I am always changing, always thinking or wondering about different things. As if I “try on” different philosophies or worldviews for a bit, though no one else really can tell. I hope this doesn’t mean that I don’t have strong core values or that I am just a tabula rasa or that I am just influenced by other people. I flatter myself that I have pretty strong core values. Maybe it’s just a “still waters run deep” sorta thing.

Either way, I’ve been thinking that I need to write more to let it out. So I will.

Tips for Staying Positive During Your Job Search (Part 1 of 2)

At first I hesitated to write this post, since I understand that my situation was different from that of many other people. I left my job voluntarily and was lucky enough to find a restaurant job which brought me a regular source of income. I wasn’t fired or laid off, and the situation that I was in was entirely through my own choice. I was fortunate enough that I was not forced to leave a job I did not want to leave.

That being said, I do know the feeling of sometimes feeling disheartened during the job search. Sometimes, despite my efforts to stay positive, I found myself wondering if the state of limbo will never end, and I worried if I would become one of those people interviewed by newspapers whenever there is an article about unemployment: “I’ve submitted thousands of resumes, so why can’t I found a job?!” A voice in my head kept wondering, “What if I become one of those poor people?! What makes me think that I would be any different from them?”

For anyone who lost their job unwillingly, my heart really goes out to you, since I can only imagine that it is much more difficult. Whether you lose your job or leave of your own free will, however, it is important to maintain hope and positivity. Think about it: if an employer is interviewing two different people with exactly the same qualifications, wouldn’t he or she choose someone who smiles and is cheerful over someone who seems depressed and glum?

If you have not already done so, one book I highly recommend reading is What Color is Your Parachute? It was the book that convinced me to leave the job that kept me unhappy and to pursue a career in public health, and after I left, I referred to it time and time again to receive hope and advice from it. Every edition year to year is supposed to be very different, and I can only speak for the 2013 edition, but I found Richard Bolles’s writing to be inspiring and powerful. His exercises inside were especially helpful. I always knew that I wanted to do something service-oriented yet practical, and I knew I was interested in health and healthcare, but I didn’t make the connection that I would be a good candidate for a public health professional until I completed his famous “Flower Exercise”. (Amazing, huh? You would think I would have figured it out sooner. Looking back, I believe that my education and career thus far gave me tunnel vision and limited me to thinking that I should stick to international relations or international education.)

Here are a few tips for staying healthy and positive that have worked for me personally throughout my job search. Stayed tune for Part 2!

1) Be grateful for the extra time you have. Use this time to do the things you always wanted to do.

You probably heard it a billion times before, but it bears repeating: you can view the same situation in many different ways. How you interpret your job search and unemployment depends entirely on you. You can view it as a sad situation which you want to escape, or you can view it an opportunity to take a break, reassess your goals and priorities, and do the things you’ve always wanted to do.

For instance, this is a great time to be a self-starter and start a business venture you’ve always wanted to do. If you can’t find someone to give you work, why don’t you make work for yourself? I personally used the extra time I had to journal and think about my priorities in life and eventually started this blog. I figured that if I couldn’t get a job in public health right away, why not write about health topics on my own? I could also spend the extra time studying up on my own on healthcare and public health!

You can also use this time to work on yourself and your hobbies. Be grateful for the time you have now for self exploration. I personally was grateful of how much easier it was to fit in half-marathon training. I completed the second half of my training while I was job hunting, and I found it much easier to find the time to run at that time than it was when I was working my day job. I also used the extra time I had on reading, cooking and baking, which were relaxing hobbies I did not have as much time to invest in while I was employed at my last job.

2) Maintain a good support network.

This is a challenging phase of your life, and it’s important that you maintain a good support network. For me, it was a challenge to see my friends while sticking to a tight budget at the same time, but there are always free or inexpensive ways to be social. We did a lot of potluck dinners and would go to free yoga classes or would even just go to the gym or grocery shopping together. Your friends and family will understand if you need to spend time with them in more economical ways.

This is also a great time to strengthen your existing relationships. Remember the people who mean a lot to you in your life, and use some of the extra time and energy you have on them. When my friend in NYC was feeling down and depressed, I was able to buy a bus ticket to NYC to see her for only a day. Back when I was working my day job, I would have found it much more difficult to do something like that.

3) Exercise at least half an hour every day.

You knew I would say this, didn’t you? I really think that daily exercise is crucial for health and happiness. Humans are built to move. To deny otherwise is to deny who we are. Exercise also will help you deal with feelings of anxiety and uncertainty, and it can help you stave off the weight gain that often accompanies unemployment. For me personally, exercise also gave me structure to my day to day routine, which was something I really missed from working in a full time day job.

4) Get enough sleep.

This is crucial. If you are not well-rested, you won’t be on your A game for interviews and networking events. If the stress and worry is keeping you up, try adding more exercise into your routine. Studies show that exercise helps with insomnia, but it takes about four months for the effects to take hold.

5) Stay away from processed foods.

This is something that is pretty important to me, since I have noticed that I am more sensitive and hyper-aware of my body than perhaps 90% of people. I think this trait might be common to people who run – we are always hyper-aware of injuries and are always on the lookout for twinges, aches, etc. that could potentially morph from minor annoyances into a full-blown injuries that would keep us off of feet for months.

So I always am paying attention to how I feel after I say, eat a healthy meal of fish and vegetables compared to when I eat a huge bowl of ice cream. There is no question in my mind that I do not function as well when I eat excess refined sugar, starches, or processed food, and I recommend that people try to keep these products out of their diets as much as possible. There’s no need to turn into a health food nut, but a simple, home-cooked meal is ALWAYS better than a processed meal full of additives, preservatives, and stabilizers.

That’s it for now, folks. Stay tuned for more later!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving! Today (and every day) I am incredibly grateful for my supportive friends and family who have stuck with me through thick and thin. I hope that I am able to do the same for other people. I am also just simply grateful for the roof over my head, the air in my lungs, and the opportunity to just be alive.

Thanksgiving always causes me to reflect on the past year. To tell the truth, 2013 has been a year of great challenges. I’ve been thrown a lot of curve balls and made a few moves that were not easy to make, but I am sincerely grateful for everything that has happened. With challenge, I was given an opportunity to grow and become stronger, and for almost every difficult experience that has occurred, I was able to connect a positive change in my life that ultimately occurred as a result. Knowing this makes me eager and excited to take on the (mis)adventures that life throws at me.

We had a decadent Thanksgiving meal at my older brother’s house in Cambridge tonight. We had juicy turkey which my younger brother made, and my older brother put together a lovely watercress and beet salad and marinated mushrooms. I contributed mashed sweet potatoes, roasted brussel sprouts and butternut squash, and cranberry sauce. My brother’s friend also gave us an AMAZING homemade cornbread stuffing. For dessert, we had pumpkin pie and pecan pie from High Rise bakery.


It was a pretty healthy meal overall! Here’s hoping that I don’t overdo it on the leftovers though!

Afterwards, we watched Kung Fu Panda and Kung Fu Panda 2 which happened to be playing on FX. It’s funny how once you start thinking about something, you start to see echos of it in other things. I had seen Kung Fu Panda before, and while I thought it was cute, funny, and a surprisingly good homage to Chinese cinema,  I didn’t think too much on its philosophy. However, this line by Master Sifu really hit home for me:

“You are too concerned about what was and what will be. There is a saying: yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the ‘present.’ “

It’s embarrassing to admit how much a silly kid’s movie affected me, but trying to live mindfully and in the present is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. I have perfectionist tendencies and have a tendency to fret about things, but I realize that most of the time, the worrying comes from a fear of what could be rather than what really is happening at the present. I have to frequently tell myself to slow down, breathe, and just focus on what is happening at the moment. And honestly, if one is always thinking of the past or the future, one will miss what is happening at the very moment. And I for one do not want to die knowing that I missed out on what was in front of me just because I was distracted by the past or the future.

Hope and Peace Was in Myself All Along


Photo credit: Martin Gommel via photopin cc

I can enjoy almost every type of music, except for jazz. Try as I might, I have an intense and completely irrational dislike for jazz music, mainly due to memories I have of working as a teenager in a coffee shop I really disliked which happened to play a lot of jazz. I’ve realized that I am being unfair to a whole genre of music simply because of my experiences and have tried to correct this over the years, but thus far with no luck.

Despite my tolerance of most other types of music, however, I really only listen to two types of music on a regular basis: rock, alternative rock, and country music. Rap fuels a lot of my runs, but that time makes up a relatively small percentage of my total music listening time. Quite frankly, I think I listen to rap in order to trick myself into feeling like a bada** when I am working out, when deep down, I know that I am not. Country music, on the other hand, is something I indulge in when I am craving something simple, upbeat, happy, and kind of dumb, but that very simpleness which attracts me to it can make me tire quickly of it. Most of the time, I enjoy listening to alternative rock the most.

One of my favorite genres within alternative rock is post-rock music. I’ve always had a hard time explaining to my friends exactly what post-rock music is, but I can recognize it when I hear it. In lieu of trying to formulate my own explanation, I’ll go with Wikipedia’s definition on it:

“Post-rock is a subgenre of rock music characterized by the influence and use of instruments commonly associated with rock, but using rhythms and “guitars as facilitators of timbre and textures” not traditionally found in rock. Post-rock bands are often without vocals.”

Some examples of post-rock music:

Sometimes post-rock is quiet.

Sometimes it is loud.

And sometimes it gets even louder.

One reason I enjoy post-rock music so much is that it is often without vocals and often sounds more like a symphony or the soundtrack to a movie. I enjoy listening to the music and trying to figure out what “story” the music is trying to tell. Sometimes I am reminded of my childhood friend Eric when I do this. He lived next door to me during my first few years in Georgia and was my best friend at the time. Our friendship was almost solely based on digging out and collecting worms all day long. I still do not know why this gave me so much pleasure as a child, but we both genuinely enjoyed it. Occasionally we broke up the monotony of collecting worms by collecting acorns instead, which I stored in a different jar from the worms so as to not crush them.

Eric was actually a lot more fascinating that his outdoor hobbies would have you believe. He was able perform a cool little trick which I was never able to figure out. While we both played the piano, I only knew how to play from sheet music. Eric, on the other hand, could just look at a picture of something, such as a flower, and play from that image. I never could figure out if it was a certain musical technique, or if he just was so gifted that he was able to compose music on the spot through the thoughts and feelings he associated with the pictures.

In a sense I am doing the opposite when I listen to post-rock music– I create the image in my head through the music, not the other way around.

Sometimes the “story” seems obvious, at least at first. One of my favorite post-rock songs of all time is “Your Hand in Mine” by Explosions in the Sky, and by the name, you can tell that it is supposed to be a love song.

It starts off slowly and calmly, which always makes me think of someone walking along slowly through the path of life.Then the drums kick in and the music speeds up. The rhythm of the drums always make me feel as if someone’s heart is beating faster. Then the drums go away, and it is as if that person is settling back into a rhythm. Maybe the initial thrill of meeting someone new is gone, and the person has returned to the normal rhythm of his or her life. Then the music speeds up again until it heightens into a crescendo, and finally, there is a crash of swelling guitars before the song ends.

If you had asked me three years ago what the song meant, I would have told you that it was about falling in love with someone whom you had known for a while. The beginning is calm, as if you are sailing about on the sea of what the relationship currently is: safe and friendly. The crescendo builds as you realize that that sea has changed. Over time, that person has become more to you and is a lot more than just a friend. I would also have said, “Gee, it would be really nice to experience something like that.” I wanted it so much at that time. I longed for that feeling, and I thought that that feeling would bring me peace.

If you had asked me two years ago what the song meant, I would have said the exact same thing, and I would also have added that I was blessed enough to finally experience that feeling. I would have told you that I believed it brought me joy and peace to finally find what I was looking for.

If you had asked me one year ago what the song meant, I would have told you that the song ended too soon, and that you don’t hear of the despair one feels if the relationship is lost.

I haven’t listened to that song much recently, but as I was running by the Charles River the other day, it came on some time during that magical time somewhere between 6 and 10 miles. As Daniele Seiss put so eloquently in her essay about running’s effect on managing her depression:

“Now, if I am feeling down, I go for a run. I usually start feeling better almost as I head out the door — in part, I believe, because I am taking charge and doing something. But by mile four, I can actually feel my thinking beginning to change, from negative to positive, as if four miles, or about 30 minutes, is some kind of threshold.”

I know exactly what feeling she is speaking about, and it is that feeling that I am chasing when I lace up my sneakers every day to run. I am not capable of running 30 miles like she is, but I know exactly how it feels when your when your thinking crosses a certain threshold and starts to perceptibly change. For me, it is a gradual progression with several stages. The first mile or so is always a little sluggish as my body starts to wake up. The insecure, negative part of me thinks, “That is because you are not a real runner. You’re not fit enough to do this. How about we just turn around and go home instead?”, but I always shut that voice down and remind myself that my body is just slowly waking up from a state of inertia and that I could not have possibly lost condition so quickly.  By mile two or mile three, I start to feel cheerful. It is the wonderful point past mile five or mile six when suddenly feel as if I am flying and that I can conquer anything.

It was at that point that day that I realized that the song suddenly had a completely different meaning for me. It was no longer about the thrill and joy of finding happiness in someone else. All of a sudden, to me the song meant the thrill and joy of just being happy and at peace with oneself. At that moment, nothing seemed better than listening to the guitars and drums, feeling the rhythmic pounding of my legs, and feeling the wind blow from the Charles River as I wound my way around it. Even though I did not know what the next day would bring for myself or my career, I was happy and grateful for the fact that I had my health and that my body was strong enough to carry me through the long run. I was filled with gratitude to be able to breathe in air, hear the sound of the cars go by, and see the river and the trees with my own eyes.

The knowledge that I “interpreted” the song completely differently surprised me very much, and I think it is just one of the many little signs of proof that running and other changes I have made in my life have made some radical changes in my thinking.

To me, no longer is that wordless and joyful song about finding hope and happiness in someone else. It is about the realization that the hope and peace I was striving for was in myself all along.