My white “cottage-ey” window

My eyes opened at 5:30 this morning to my tiny white “cottage-ey” window on the wall next to me. No sun peeking through the slats yet. My mind wanders as it does every morning as I gaze up and out. Today my thoughts lull me into what I call my perfect sleep. On a good day when I wake up this early and I can’t sleep, I lay there thinking, lost in a mix of reality and fantasy. Today I am lucky, I doze off while in the perfect mix for a brief period of time. And for a few moments I’m lost in the land of the perfect dream. The waking is bittersweet.I decide today when I wake for the second time that I will try out a sunrise run on the lake. I hop out of bed and throw on my running clothes. My running inspiration has pretty much taken over my thoughts and I know in that place deep inside of me getting out there and doing my long run is the best cure.

I’m out the door and as soon as I turn off my street onto Main St I can see the lake in the distance. I am instantly motivated by the sight of it. It’s a little cloudy this morning but the sun manages to peek through and parts of the lake shimmer the sun’s rays in the most beautiful way you can imagine. The storefronts are all closed and there isn’t another person in sight. Canandaigua is still asleep for the most part and I suddenly find myself starting to feel at home in this sleepy little town.

West Lake Rd in the early morning certainly didn’t disappoint when I arrived there. Spectacular homes sat along the water’s edge. The gentle breeze felt amazing. I started to see people waking up and getting their newspapers. The sun continued to push up and peek out of the clouds as I hit miles 3 and 4. The run out was so peaceful and really effective in clearing my head of my thoughts. The journey back was equally peaceful but painful at points. I found myself struggling by mile 7ish. My right leg was cramping and my mind started questioning if I would make it. It is with a sheer determination that I never knew I had until I started running, that I silence the voices that doubt me. I replace them with simply, yes you can. You can do this. Keep going. 

These are the points I always think of my mom and our talks. Today I remember our drive on Seneca Lake again. I had asked her if she thought I would ever achieve my dream of living on the lake. Her reply was one only your mom has the credibility to say, as she is the one person that has known you the longest of anyone in the whole wide world. It was not only her words saying something like, “You? Of course. Keep working hard and I know you can do anything you set your mind to” But it was also the perfect convincing mix of pride and confidence in her tone that only your mom ever has. She believes in you in such a way that you don’t even question it, and you are wrapped snuggly in the comfort of her knowing you.

Lost in my thoughts it suddenly starts to occur to me that my feet alone have brought me 10 miles away from my bed today to this absolutely beautiful place. I am surrounded by beautiful homes and breathtaking views. And I arrived here all by myself, by first of all, working hard, but also by dreaming I could get here in the first place. If I can achieve this distance in running and arrive here it suddenly starts to seem possible that I could one day have this view everyday out of my own bedroom window. My pace picks up again as I start to make the connection. It could be as simple as acquiring another business account. And then another. And another. I know my business. I love my business. I’ve spent 11 years believing in it and growing it. And like my feet that have gotten me here today, by simply taking one step at a time, my business can also get me to this place.

I am driven by a deep inspiring unexplainable love. I don’t know how, or when or from where, as one of my favorite sonnets goes. And I have found somewhere in the space between running the easy miles and the painful miles, the deep breathes and the short breaths, the beauty and the pain; the courage to dream. The rest of my run back continued to be hard. But I ran back with a new glimmer of hope that started from gazing out of my little white “cottage-ey” window and took me on a run miles and miles away, further than I had ever dared dream. Until now.