From Sprint to Stride
Embracing softness and contentment as superpowers
I began running in middle school. Time, the 1980s. Jackie Joyner-Kersee reigned as the Olympic heptathlon title holder.
As we journey down the path together, I’ll unpack how this manifested in my life, both in literal and metaphorical ways. But for now, let’s stick with running in the literal sense.
A sun-kissed Saturday in sixth grade marked my first track meet. I met the 100-yard dash with anticipation, confidence, and an unshakeable knowing that if I sprinted fast and hard enough, I could win. And win I did. Enveloped with cheers from the crowd, endearing smiles from my parents, and an undeniable inner rush, I crossed the finish line and achieved a personal best.
“You’re amazing, Mekel.”
“I’m so proud of you!”
“We knew you had it in you.”
The commentary ignited a flame inside of me and fueled my desire to achieve, win at all costs, hustle, go, and do from that day forward.
Unfortunately, it’s often difficult to tease apart a mixed cocktail infused with adrenaline, external validation, and personal resolve. All I knew then and for 20 years beyond that particular race is that it felt glorious. Priding myself first as the “little Black girl who could” amid a sea of folks who didn’t look like me and subsequently as the “strong Black woman,” I sprinted my way through life … until I no longer could.
See I met parts of myself I’d never encountered beginning on December 9, 2012 — the day my beloved mom, friend, confidante, prayer partner, and shopping buddy all-in-one died after a 30-day trek with Stage IV pancreatic cancer. My sprint came to a startling and unexpected halt, though I didn’t fully appreciate this until a year later.
What’s most interesting about sprinting, especially if it’s all you’ve ever known, is that you don’t actually realize what you’re doing. You grow accustomed to the elevated heart rate and decision-making on autopilot. What you previously identified as perspiration becomes reframed as “sweat equity,” the portion you believe you must invest in order to yield a return on your investment. Somehow you fail to realize that what you’re investing in isn’t even you, but others — their dreams, their businesses, their lifestyles.
When my mom died, the strong “legs” that had carried me through physical, academic, spiritual, and emotional races of all kinds began to fail. The stamina I’d once maintained gave way to exhaustion. The well-knit banner I once wore with pride became tattered and worn with each attempt to run harder. Faster. Longer.
“You go, girl” became “You just need to be, girl.”
No longer was I a sprinter.
Harsh realities of grieving, coupled with physical and mental betrayals, set in, catapulting me into a newfound sense of crawling, then striding. Life forced me to juxtapose my habitual urge to hustle my way through with attempting and approaching my day-to-day in a softer manner. Sometimes this looked like merely getting out of bed and taking a shower. On other days, mustering the energy to exit the four walls of my home.
As you might anticipate, I wrestled with what this meant for me. I had never known “soft.” Only with the grinding, hardcore version of myself was I completely familiar and comfortable.
Soft equaled weak. Soft meant incapable. Soft signaled failure.
In addition, questions arose. What impact would this slower way of living have on my career? My finances? My relationships?
I suspect that you too have struggled — or perhaps are struggling now — with similar questions.
My friend, know you’re not alone. Years of pursuing life with goal setting, accomplishments, and reaching the finish line top of mind, it’s no wonder we fret. I encourage you to gently and gradually release the shame associated with your old way of being. If we’d known better, we would have done better.
For now, simply consider how softness and contentment might actually be superpowers.You don’t need to make a commitment to a new way of living. Just take a moment to consider. Here are two questions to help you reflect:
Is sprinting actually needed in this season of my life?
What would happen if I intentionally focused on striding instead?
Put your thoughts on paper. Continue to ponder what you discover. And invite someone you trust to explore the possibilities with you.
Looking back at that first track meet now, I realize how insignificant that moment really was. While winning felt glorious at the time, it did nothing to highlight the essence of who I am. As a matter of fact, every external accolade and accomplishment has left me wondering — wandering, even — and thirsty for more, as opposed to feeling anchored and settled within myself. Thank you, 40-something year-old hindsight!
With your permission, I’d love to walk with you along a softer path — one that embraces contentment over cravings and gentleness over grinding.
In posts to come, I’ll share more about my vision for 2025, including the ways you and I can partner. You can anticipate a combination of:
Reflection pieces;
Community gatherings, retreats, and offerings;
Faith-infused conversations;
Writing workshops; and
Whatever else we dream up together!
For now, I’ll simply say I’m incredibly glad you’re here.
Let’s co-create a SOFTER society … together.xo, Mekel
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