Here’s what the sky looked like at 5:30 a.m. this morning
Another humid morning. Sigh. I knew this 4-mile run would be a challenge, but reminded myself that I ran 10 miles on Saturday in much worse heat. Ha. Four miles? That’s nothing! I got this.
(P.S. The new songs I added to my playlist are keeping me super motivated. Check out “Rather Be feat. Jess Glynne” by Clean Bandit and “Prayer in C (Robin Schulz Radio Edit)” by Lilly Wood & the Prick.)
I’ve said this before, but I love this city in the early morning. It’s so quiet, calm. It allows my mind to wander. After running through a gaggle of geese and stopping off at the World War II Memorial for a few pictures, I thought about what “home” means to me. Why? Because I saw the New Jersey and Washington, D.C., pillars at the World War II Memorial and thought, home.
The early morning sky over the WWII Memorial.
New Jersey will always be home, the motherland. I love where I grew up and my roots are deep there. Washington, D.C., has been my home for almost ten years and it’s become my “adult” home. I arrived in 2005 with a little bit of money, no job, and rented a small studio apartment I wasn’t sure how I would pay for. Grad school started, I found a full-time job in 3 weeks, and started making friends. I figured out how to live a life away from all things familiar.
But where else is home? Is feeling “at home” the same thing?
Sometimes when I’m running alone, I feel at home. I see familiar landscapes, hear myself breathing, and feel my legs working. At my barre 3 studio, I feel at home. I’m friendly with staff, instructors, and students. We chat. They ask about marathon training. I ask about their life outside of the studio. It’s a cohort of comfort. A tiny community that I love being a part of.
So, what does “home” mean to you?