I don’t want to be a runner.

That’s a new phrase for me. I used to phrase it as, “I’m not a runner.” As in, I’m not capable.

But I’ve realized recently that that’s not true. Back in May I signed up to run a seven-mile road race, for many other reasons outside of the running itself—the course was beautiful, mile five was right in front of my cousins’ house, and it meant a weekend vacation on the beach. What came with all of that, of course, was the commitment to actually run seven miles. And I was not a runner.

But I was registered and I’d paid for this experience, so I trained. I started small—one mile here, two there. I started waking up early to beat the heat; I made playlists and downloaded podcasts. My body hurt a lot and then it didn’t, and then it did again, and then it didn’t. Running has never come naturally to me, and at the heart of this whole undertaking, I wanted the challenge. I wanted to do the thing I always told myself, and others, that I could not and would not do. There were no stakes besides that. The stakes themselves were relatively low. But they were high enough for me to feel them in my way.

I ran the race. I did not win, and I still did not stop. I high-fived my family and felt the ocean breeze on my sweaty skin. I ran across the finish line and I dismantled a lie I had told myself for many, many years. And now I had a choice: continue to build on this newfound, foundational belief that I could be a runner—or step away and go back to life before.

I’ve chosen, for now, to step away. I didn’t find joy or peace or healing in running; actually, it all kind of hurt and I wanted to bail by mile five. No one needs me to prove myself any further. I don’t feel the need to stack race numbers in my hands. I want to go back to the gym, to long walks, to sleeping in. I could have a runner’s life—my body and mind have shown me that. But I want something different right now. For as glad as I am that I tried, it’s that different life I’m choosing to pursue.

Here are five songs for putting one foot in front of the other, for doing what you thought you could not do, and for making the choice to live a life that you choose for yourself—a life that’s always changing and always moving forward.

“Nice for What” // Drake

For the starting line, mile one. I love that this song has so many false starts before the beat really kicks in—it gives me time to settle into my rhythm.

“24 Karat 2016” // Gladius ft. Klara Elias

For the first three miles, running full up on adrenaline. The drop at 0:42 had me dancing as I came up on the four-mile mark, just over halfway with the hardest part ahead.

“Born to Run” // Bruce Springsteen

For the end of mile five, to keep me calm and steady right as things got really hard. And also the point where I ran by my family, who raised me on Springsteen, and got high-fives and water bottles from the people I love most.

“Mr. Brightside” // the Killers

For a wicked uphill that took me through the start of the last mile. A challenge and a triumph. You know I had to.

“Jubel” // Klingande

For the finish line. I’ve ended every run, nearly every workout, with this song—for years now. Every chord, to me, feels like completion.

Meet the Author

Melissa Warten

Melissa graduated Boston College in 2016 with a double major in English and philosophy. She loves Ultimate Frisbee, Hamilton, Harry Potter, and ice cream, and thinks most problems can be solved with a nap, an iced coffee and the right Spotify playlist. She hopes to work in publishing.

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Featured

The End of An Era: Saying Goodbye to Windrose

Hi friends,

Announcement (sounds so formal, doesn’t it?):

It's the end of an era.

I’ve decided that, after nearly 8 years of telling stories of navigating life, this season of Windrose is drawing to a close.

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Even Here: Words for When You're Wandering

When I was 22 years old, I visited the desert for the first time.

A metaphorical desert, if we’re getting technical.

I was fresh out of college, starry-eyed and eager to begin my post-grad life. I had big ‘ole me-centered dreams: a shiny, brag-worthy PR job in the music industry! An apartment with an exposed brick wall that (somehow) would fit an upright piano! A committed relationship with a kind, goofy man!

I got exactly none of those things.

To summarize an entire year’s worth of emotion: I was devastated.

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What is Home?

Late last night, I flew back into town after a week away, the city lights covering the Valley like a blanket of incandescent flowers. I’ve flown into Phoenix at least a dozen times at this point. Usually, I can identify a handful of landmarks, like my antenna-scarred South Mountain or the twinkling lights of the bridges spanning Tempe Town Lake.

Flying into Nashville, however, was always different.

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I Don't Live Here Anymore

I recently returned to Nashville for the first time since moving to Phoenix five months ago.

Before my reunion, I often said that the word “home” could apply to both Nashville and Phoenix. Nashville is my home. Phoenix is my home. I could find that home-sweet-home feeling in both cities.

During my 8 days back, I frequented my old haunts. The brickwalled coffee shop still serves the meanest mocha in town. The hillside winery still proves to be a worthwhile spot to sip away a sunny Sunday afternoon. The hip burger joint still offers a lovely evening to dine with friends, new and old. The lime-green Mexican restaurant on the corner of Whitebridge still feels like a queso-soaked refuge.

There were many “stills,” but there were changes, too.

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Why did you move?

A cardstock print sits propped against the lamp on my desk: a taupe watercolor swipe outlining a peakside Saguaro, the sun a tiny ring above. Beneath this minimalist illustration are these words in typeface: “I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”

I happened upon this notecard-sized print on the way out of a shop last weekend, after already having completed another purchase. It was the last print of its kind in the pile. I had to have it. I returned to the cashier: “This one, too.”

You see, this verse has been a thread weaving through my story, simple words spoken by a prophet long dead, a passage of comfort I’ve returned to again and again since my pilgrimage to the desert four years ago, when I inked a cactus on my wrist.

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The Good Old Days

Last week was National Margarita Day.

I did not, however, celebrate the holiday. Truthfully, I’ve yet to find THE Mexican place here in Phoenix. You know the one: gaudy decorations, cheap food, even cheaper margaritas.

But there’s a Mexican restaurant at the corner of Charlotte and Whitebridge in Nashville, TN.

You may have heard of it.

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Witching Hour (or, Fighting Off Demons at 3 am with a Box Cutter)

Between the hours of 3 - 4 am, I find myself awakened by nothing in particular. The room is silent. There is no sound outside. No loud car horns. No dogs barking.

I’m upset.

I wish it was something other than just me. Then I could stop it. Nothing is to blame. It feels like moments have passed since I closed my eyes. The moments of a long dreamless sleep last about 4 hours.

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10 Life Lessons This Cross-Country Move is Attempting to Teach Me

There are a few lessons life has attempted to teach me since my move — all things that I haven’t yet spiced up into a full essay, but deserve to be memorialized by my metaphorical pen nonetheless.

So I present a collection of lessons I’ve learned — and am still learning — in the last 3 months.

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What Will Your Life Look Like?

Tomorrow marks 3 months.

Three months here, sharing a zip code with Saguaros.

“So how is Phoenix?” a friend asked me over the phone as I sat on my balcony beneath glowing string lights, a pour of raspberry wine in my hand. The sun was setting, painting the eastern mountains with rosy swipes of redemption.

How has Phoenix been these last three months?

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What is it Trying to Tell You, if Only You’d Listen?

I went on a date recently. Two glasses of Riesling, pleasant conversation, and a perfectly amicable guy — it was an altogether fine evening.

However, I wasn’t interested in a second date.

Not because of any run-for-the-hills red flags. Not because I didn’t think he was cute. Not because we didn’t get along. I simply — wasn’t interested.

There’s no better way to explain it. No fear-based avoidance of the potential for a healthy relationship. No disdain for commitment that needs a heavy round of therapy to work through. Nothing deeper than the inner sense that a second date just wasn’t necessary.

But, I said yes to getting dinner again with him.

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The Other Side of Yes

I’m a No Girl.

In many ways, this is a good thing. I’m able to confidently decline invitations that disinterest me.

“Want to go whitewater rafting?” No thank you, I’m comfy right here on the bank.

“Want to do a shot?” No thank you, I’ll take my liquor with lime juice and Triple Sec, plz.

“Want to try this carrot cake?” No thank you, Harry, I can’t eat gluten.

“Want to go to Broadway?” No thank you, I’d prefer to go to bed.

In many ways, however, being a No Girl originates less from personal boundaries and more from fear. Fear and I happen to be pretty tight; we talk on the daily. Fear has been the primary consultant for many of my life decisions, in fact.

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A Song for Growth

A year ago, a friend of mine got a job at a well known tech company. He had been slogging through the interviews, and he finally got an offer. Obviously he deserved it. He was a hard worker, and his attitude for success and life was admirable to say the least. I knew he was beyond qualified.

But at the time, I was on a career path I couldn’t see myself being happy in. I had made the mistake of staying in the industry mainly for the money. Every month in the industry was a reminder of how much I did not want to stay. It created a nasty cycle of overthinking and career angst. Feelings of inadequacy and existentialism rooted themselves deep inside me. I couldn’t focus on anything and was utterly disconnected from the work I was doing.

I admit I wasn’t happy for him.

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Tuesday Tunes: Songs for Moving Forward

“Nice for What” // Drake

“24 Karat 2016” // Gladius ft. Klara Elias

“Born to Run” // Bruce Springsteen

“Mr. Brightside” // the Killers

“Jubel” // Klingande

Melissa graduated Boston College in 2016 with a double major in English and philosophy. She loves Ultimate Frisbee, Hamilton, Harry Potter, and ice cream, and thinks most problems can be solved with a nap, an iced coffee and the right Spotify playlist. She hopes to work in publishing.

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