movement and repetition

Why when life gets turbulent do I reach for movement, always. More and more, packing is as much as my body can handle. I crave the exhaustion, the subtle aches, the hunger, and the thirst.  Running, cycling, walking, hiking are repetitive and mundane, yet it offers so much ease and joy. Maybe not joy and ease actually. I wrote that (’ease and joy’), but I know it's not entirely true. Most of the time, things are rather boring, mundane, sad, hard–especially running. But maybe the exhaustion after a good day of activity is ease and joy, but maybe it’s just exhaustion–I'm never quite sure. 

I am in my “mid-twenties”, as people say. Me and my peers are ‘figuring things out’. We are switching jobs, ditching relationships that we’ve realized are bad, moving, learning how to have more adult relationships with our parents, all of it takes a lot of trial and error–and a lot of believing in yourself. 

We are also learning to set big goals while social media rages on about how each day is extravagant and someone is telling us about the dream of living the life you always hoped for. I stumbled on a video the other day of some tanned person doing cartwheels on a beach saying something like- “I live under a waterfall in South America while making hundreds of thousands and you could too!”

My life is pretty good, but I am also starting grad school in a month, and right now I'm sitting at my parents house in front of a computer writing this nonsense. Is this what I always hoped for? Maybe not, but also yes. I have people I love and look up to as my friends, and get to ride my bike, run, and go for long walks by the water. I believe in myself more than I ever have, and I have big dreams for myself. But I also tend to go to bed early, have good conversations, and spend a lot of time doing the same things over and over and getting a little better at them over time. I like to think that's the dream. 

So why movement? I cry when I run alone sometimes–more than any other activity– it cracks me open. I believe in myself more after I ride my bike. In the middle of a long walk I compulsively open my notes app and write down little poems, new recipe ideas, or thoughts about what the trees sound like that day. Sometimes I get to ride, run or hike in a magical new place, but usually it's the same trails or roads over and over. 

I am not making some new point here, it's nothing groundbreaking. But I do find it odd how such simple repetitive and mundane activities bring me so much meaning.