Finding My Run

Colette GerstmannSeptember 13, 2018Rituals and TraditionsAwesome Moments

Artwork by Catherine Hochman

It was a temperate summer evening at my aunt’s house in upstate New York. Having nothing to do, my cousins and I scooted chairs from the patio into the wide, grassy yard and sat, looking up into the big blue sky and letting the gentle wind graze our faces.

The wind seemed to carry encouragement on its current, and the clouds drifted by with an air of comfort. I suddenly felt a burst of energy, and I hopped to my feet. Feeling lighthearted, I broke into a run.

I don’t usually run. Generally, I’m not very fast, and running exhausts me. But that day I felt different. Energy pulsed through me; I gained speed, my feet coming down on the grass and springing upward again. I felt strong, but at the same time, I felt effortless. I curved onto the cement near the back of the house, leaped over the stone path, and approached the grass again, starting a new lap.

I felt powerful but weightless. The ground was no longer a hassle, wasn’t something I had to get over in order to win a race—instead, it aided me, powered me, gave me the momentum to keep going. The grass accepted the weight of each step and pushed me further forward. I wasn’t running for a prize; I wasn’t running to beat the clock. I was running because it made me happy. Everything around me cheered me on; everything I passed was a positive force. The ground was a generous base. The sky was an inspiring canvas. The wind propelled me on and the trees swayed and bowed in greeting. Nothing could compare to this feeling of soaring through space, as if the very thing that grounded me was the thing that was making me fly.

Colette Gerstmann is an 8th grader at Saint Ann’s School in Brooklyn, New York. She lives with her parents, sister and dog. She likes animals, art, reading, writing, playing the clarinet, singing, playing tennis, and dancing.