Some mornings you just have to run

Because sometimes the shoulds can wait

The sun was coming up over the lake. My dad would be awake in about 30 minutes. I had my window.

Chris had tried to call from Spain. I’d sent him a message asking how things were going. He responded asking me to call him and then tried to phone. My phone was still on silent from the night before. I should call him back. I should be there when my dad came out for breakfast. But I wanted to run.

I could feel the frustration building. That familiar tug of the shoulds pulling against what I actually wanted.

I went for the run.

I’ve always loved running along the lake near my parents’ house in Canada. It’s a big lake, nestled amongst the hills and the pine trees. Something about it just takes you away from everything else for a little while. I only get back every one or two years.

I’ve been battling the shoulds for a long time. I now hate the word. I hate when I say it to myself and I hate when other people say it to me. These weren’t big life-changing shoulds. They were just the small everyday ones that quietly stack up and crowd out what you actually want.

These shoulds were all about time. And I’ve come to appreciate how precious it is. If you don’t protect it, it just slips away, used up by other people and things, with nothing left for yourself.

As I ran, I thought about a friend who messaged me recently, laughing. Her kids thought she was depressed because dinner was late and dad had to drive them places. She’d started making time for herself, to play pickleball.

It’s funny how when we start to prioritise time for ourselves, the people around us aren’t always quite sure what to make of it. But here’s what I’ve learned. When I make time for myself, I actually have more to give. I top up my own tank first, and then I can be more present for the people I love.

I got back from my run feeling alive, energised, and ready. I had felt the sun on my face, smelled the pine trees, and watched the ospreys flying overhead.

My dad was at the table eating his cornflakes when I walked in. He looked up, already knowing the answer, and asked if I’d been for a run. I smiled, went to the fridge, grabbed my yogurt and fruit, and sat down beside him.

I called Chris after breakfast. He was down at the beach with friends, enjoying the Spanish sun.

The version of me that sat down with my dad that morning was better for having run. So was the version of me that called Chris.

Is there something you keep putting off for yourself because the shoulds keep getting in the way?