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He reached out and gave me a high five as I passed. 

"Hey you! Hi, hi." 

Pulling me close for a hug he whispered in my ear,

"It's so good to have you back."

Last Tuesday night was my first true distance run in a long time. Not only was it a triumphant attempt to return to that which calls and calms me; it was my return to a place that has given me more than I ever could have anticipated: Parkdale Roadrunners. Tuesday nights used to bring me such joy and enjoyment that they became a place where I lived, thrived (albeit shyly and anxiously). Community and sweat; conversations, bonds and moments taken seriously and methodically, yet in lightness and breath; living and moving through the streets like determination and positivity personified. So many moments, so many small victories, so much support. 

Somewhere along the line it fell apart. It may have been because I spent every waking moment working on projects, school, hours of training, internships and then, you know, everything else. Flying off to one side of the world or another, I got farther away before I knew it. Even so, I got farther and farther, and in all honesty wondered if I could ever make my way back at all. I lost hope almost as quickly as I lost myself; never certain if I would live to see a day when I could return to a place, a community, a pass-time I held so dear.  

So when I made the decision to come back, finally feeling ready, I never expected to feel how it felt to return. I had no expectations, and was still sore from being sick. I figured everyone had moved on, as they should, involved in their own lives and pushing to achieve their own goals and dreams. When I showed up, and was welcomed back without question, and with warm and caring arms - it brought up many thoughts and emotions. Having my captain pull me close and welcome me back - in that moment I was vindicated. Held. I was welcomed home to a place I haven't been in 2 years. Not in running, nor in life. A place, an existence I had long forgotten and given up on. I reincountered a feeling I had deperately craved and hunted for - impatiently and desperately - only to have it show its face when I least expected it.   

Fighting back from where I've come, by the skin of my teeth, tooth and nail, clawing, scraping, holding on for dear life... it all came rushing back to me. In that moment everything (I felt) I had failed - didn't matter anymore. Every sadness and anxiety floated away into the warm October wind. Like bubbles, they drifted away, effortless, popping into the night sky. A page was turning, a shift occurring. Witness of the struggle was enough. Honouring my return - I was speechless. Not only that, the culminative response, care, attention and subsequent drowning of my fears - it all hit me at once.  

On my walk home I was struck by it. Unsure even of the emotion or its name. Did I want to cry? Or did I want to scream and jump? I wanted to do all three - in joy and love for how good it felt. It was like falling in love for the first time. It was like reconnecting with a long-lost friend. It was about me, and I felt good to give myself what I needed. Finally. 

While I am still being patient with myself, and while I have a long way to go yet: I am inspired. Not only by the greatness of myself, but the magnificence of others. Their ability to be present, accommodating, and with care for the wellness of others; a validating reminder that everything was worth it. That I was worth it. 

I still am.  

Even so, I felt grounded. I felt a foundation forming at my feet. This was only one night but there could be others. I just had to believe that I was worth the time: worth the effort.  

Like I said, I'm being patient. I'm being gentle. With the voices in my head, with the work ahead - I'm not only returning home: I'm somewhere I've never been. Like rebuilding in the ashes of the home I once loved - I'm close, and yet far. I have the blueprints and I'm working in the new foundation. I'm ready to fight tooth and nail for something new. I'm finally ready. 

Thanks for the welcome home.