It’s about 10pm on a Friday night. My week has been long. Work has been tiring and the shop is busy like always. My relationship is good but my heart is always heavy. I go home, and change my outfit, take off my makeup and throw on my shoes and tie my hair up. My boyfriend and I head to the gym. He goes off and does his own thing, talks to friends, watches himself in the mirror. I act like I’m never watching him but he always has my attention.
A gym is the last place I thought I’d ever catch myself at but here I am. Getting on treadmill, putting in my headphones, listening to music that comes through the shuffle on Spotify. I look around me, you can tell who goes often, who’s comfortable, who’s not. People with real goals and people just hanging out.
I get lost in thought. Thought of why I’m here. That I like having a safe space. A safe space where I don’t have any goal but to run. I think of my mother and how much I hate her. How much I never want to be her. I think of how I feel like I let people walk all over me. How I’m unappreciated and taken for granted. That I work and work and get no where. That my dreams are so far, so out of reach but somehow I still make it out of bed every morning.
I don’t think I have much of any goal when I go to the gym. It’s more or less just taking the time to out run my own thoughts. To remind myself I’m only human, just like everyone else in the room. And it’s okay to cry in the shower when I get home. It’s okay to feel like your going no where. It’s just nice to run to run.