It’s a gorgeous 70 degrees out. Yesterday in anticipation for my work shift ending, I anxiously watched the clock tick by. I began growing restless by the minute as my eyes glazed over in boredom from too much screen time and honestly from a lack of tasks. I am a task oriented person, so this eats away at me. Four struck, and I eagerly bolted to race home, change my attire, and pound the pavement to hear my voice.

The child you see in the photo is me. I cannot recall the exact year, what age I am in it, but suspect I was around seven. My parents took us all over the place growing up, camping out of our 21-ft Winnebago. This was likely one of our trips to the desert where we would go barefoot playing from dawn til dusk, chase horny toads, eat dates at China Ranch, and cool off in the stream from being absolutely hot; sun kissed skin and absolutely covered in fun.

It satisfied every bit of my adventurousness as we climbed sand dunes for my Dad to photograph spring flowers, my Mom to take my hand and teach my siblings and I about edible plants all while looking for the best rock keepsake. We would set camp in the middle of nowhere; preferring the solitude over campgrounds. Passing the baseball around, bike riding, and exploring old mines were our menu for two weeks. Bliss.

It feels right to say that this child then, still lives in me now. That little me would pick up banana slugs, make mud pies, play kick the can with the neighborhood kids until we got called in for dinner or before I scraped my knees up. Days were spent riding my pink Schwinn Lil Chik with my best friend, Valerie, doubled up on the flowered banana seat as we raced 5 houses down w/handle bar streamers flapping from our speed. Not a care in the world. Roller skates, Cabbage Patch Kids, Garbage Pail Cards, and Swatch Watches. We didn’t know how good we had it.

As I laced up my shoes yesterday after work to wash off the post-work angst and feelings of being a wild bird trapped in a cage from a sedentary day, I was reminded about my youth. Each step I took was a voluntary reset. That spirited child who seeks a creative outlet and thrives by activity isn’t lost, it’s more that she is acknowledged. I am thankful that my life outside of those windowless walls create a space of complete joy! I run. I run to hear.

What is your magical reset?