Unbreakable.

I wish I could run up the Art Museum Steps at full speed, unafraid and untouchable.  To trust myself enough to know that even if I fell, I wouldn't break.  To understand that breaking didn't always mean a bone.

As I sidelined my gps watch today and chose cross training over a paced run, I watched people take on these steps and remembered a time when I, too, was fearless.  A time when I held on to more than just not quitting. 

I hope it's not just my age typing these words or the twinge of cynicism that comes from an injury; but I dare say that if I were ever given back moments from my fearless teenage days, I'd haul that girl to the base of the Art Museum Steps, get a stopwatch out and shout at her until she moved her ass up those steps so quickly the only thing discernible was her red hair.  Because, right now, she could do it and something is holding me back. 

I suppose I envy the athlete in any of us who lets go, if only for 60 seconds, and leaves it all on the field (or the steps) just for the silent smile (to himself) at the certainty that there was nothing left to give in that moment.