Treadmills.

There was a time in my life during which every day ended with 60 minutes on the treadmill at a slow pace watching Sonny and Carly dance around epic tragedy on General Hospital.  No matter the time of year, the crowd (welcome, Shoobies), the practice I'd had after school or the dinner waiting at home, there was always those 60 minutes that were just mine.  

Since then (high school), I moved away from the treadmill's perfection - in stride, time, pace, incline and calories - toward (1) walking/nothing (college) and (2) trails (law school).  And while I'm still an outdoor girl - whether snow or 100 degrees and humid - runs like today's, on a treadmill, for 81 minutes, running 9 miles while staring blankly at the same building in the distance that overlooks my favorite park, was a reminder that there is something to be said for steadiness and meditation.  

Runners often speak of the transcendent properties of a great run - whether a marathon or a 5k.  The 9 miles that I ran today, while they did not take me anywhere, they didn't take me from anywhere either.  They kept me right where I was: in a gym, focused on the archaic beauty of a building in Philadelphia's skyline, with controlled breathing and a free mind.  I was very much in a moment and in that moment there was clarity without anxiety and feeling without thought.  

Coming off of a difficult week, running felt good again - the way it did when I was 17 with 10 minutes left in my workout, waiting for my dad to pick me up from a gym his buddy owned to take me home to a dinner my mom made.  And so, while the thought of a treadmill workout may seem like a dark cloud on most days, I remind myself that there is a simple safety in crossing the finish line there.