kindness – Running on Fumes

“I sell pizza.”

That’s my new motto. Three seemingly small words which indicate a new heartfelt response. Epiphany? Maybe. Rebranding? Sort of. Reframe? Bingo.

I sell pizza. I don’t sell ice cream, or hotdogs, or juice boxes, or hamburgers, or any other version of convenient foods. Pizza. That’s what I sell.

What does this even mean?

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It means –

I don’t owe a dime and I don’t have to do anything. I owe it to myself to establish clear, direct boundaries. No further explanation. No long-winded and easily misconstrued version of trauma which led to…blah blah blah.

For some, pizza is the Michelin star in perfect triangular form. It can be customized, dressed up, transformed into an award winning dish. The pizza I sell? Cheese. I sell cheese pizza. Not because I’m boring or don’t want to put in the effort, but because cheese pizza is tried and true. It’s the basics. The foundation of pizza. Cheese.

You’ve probably figured out I’m going somewhere with this schpill. You are, right? When tested, I easily revert back to foundational principles – kindness often mistaken as weakness, or I shut down completely. Rarely do I come out fighting. All noble reactions yet kindness has not served me too well. Good thing kindness isn’t for you, Kel. Kindness is a reflection of the heart. It’s a desire to do better, be better, give others grace. It’s not easy. People test, they try, they dig in their heels, they make messes where no mess should ever be. At some point, kindness is overshadowed, and those without boundaries are the first to succumb.

Not this time. Not to the lady who sells pizza. Kindness is no longer a convenience, it’s a requirement. To be part of my world, kindness is a non-negotiable. Just because I sell pizza does not mean I will sell it to you.

Cheers to holding the line. And selling a damn good pizza pie.

_____________________

I ask you –

Did I miss any analogies?

(The post Kindness is not Convenient first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Finally completed the necessary x-rays to start the long process of making decisions re: me feets. One foot, two foots.

If only running was simply a hobby, or something I occasionally do for fun it would make this process seemingly easier. Instead, running is a way of life. It’s my way of clearing my head, making sense of life’s messiness, of putting the anxiety into focus, of leaving “me” behind for a few miles. I don’t run just to run; I run because I need it. The few months post-race circa December 2021 when I couldn’t run, when I thought I may never run again – difficult doesn’t begin to describe how I felt. Admittedly, there were moments of sheer panic and depression considering how I would navigate life without running shoes. It’s not the shoes that make the runner, it’s the getting out the door, breathing in one last time, then pushing forward. It’s the arm swing, the sound and feel of my feet hitting the pavement, the eventual exhaustion that signals a good run. It’s so much more than the word “run”.

Surrounded by kindness

In other news, I have a tough time making the decision to meter myself, in running, life, conversations, everything. Occasionally I remember to ask permission prior to forgiveness but it’s not often. Also, it’s comical when someone thanks me for my patience. Because I am not patient. Not even a little bit. I put on a show but inside I am an anxious mess of restlessness. Zero patience. I demand efficiency in all aspects. Patient? Not this girl. But thank you for believing I am.

_________________________

I ask you –

What helps clear your head?

Do you consider yourself patient?

Tell me about a recent kind act in your life!

(The post More Than We Realize first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)