Because You Can

Many years ago, I used to coach people to run their first 5K.

Sometimes we didn’t even run at first.
Sometimes we just walked.

Anything to get people moving.

I wasn’t a fast runner, but I was a committed runner. And I wanted to run with people who weren’t trying to be the fastest — they just wanted to do better than yesterday.

When I moved to Georgia, I didn’t know anyone.
So I figured if I wanted to meet like-minded people, I should offer like-minded opportunities.

That’s how it started.

I can’t even tell you how many people I coached across their first 5K finish line. But I can tell you this:

It did far more than teach them how to run.

For many of them, it became a pivotal moment — a launchpad.

Because the moment they crossed that finish line, their mind opened to a new question:

What else could I do?

Most of them accomplished something they never believed they were capable of.

And it started simply.

One minute running.
Four minutes walking.

Rain or shine.

I always thought it was funny when someone would ask if we were canceling because it was raining.

I was from Portland, Oregon.
If we didn’t run in the rain…

we didn’t run.

This morning it was pouring down rain.

Not a drizzle.
A full steady downpour.

I checked the weather.
Rain — with no breaks predicted.

I had already seen that the night before.

So I figured maybe I’d skip the walk.

Maggy needed her medicine at 5:30, so I got up anyway.
Moon went outside to go potty.

Maggy always holds it for the walk.

And before I realized what I was doing, I was moving through my usual routine — getting ready.

Eventually I shrugged and said to myself,

What the hell.

I went downstairs and grabbed the raincoats.

I reasoned we would just do one lap around the field. Maybe two.
Enough to stretch our legs, but not the full hour.

And then something shifted.

The rain felt cool and clean on my skin.
Fresh.

Here, in our little corner of the world, the rain falls gently.

I’m aware not everyone gets to experience something as simple as a peaceful walk in the rain.

That thought stayed with me.

This morning my writing wasn’t bubbling up.

And I was okay with that.

I don’t want my walks to become centered around writing.

I want them to remain a place where I breathe.
Where I connect.

Where I feel that deep sense of gratitude for nature, the moon and the stars — and my two pooches, Maggy and Moon.

It took a few laps to settle into my rhythm.

By the third pass near the two old fir trees — the elders — I started giggling.

The wind picked up and their branches started swaying loudly.

I looked up and said out loud,

“Are you laughing at me?”

And then another thought landed.

Maybe they were clapping.

Clapping because I showed up.

Because I didn’t cut corners.

There I was on my third lap in the pouring rain.

At some point I realized something simple:

We were already wet.

It’s just rain.

Let’s finish this.

That’s when my mind returned to the runners in Georgia.

Many of them crossed their first 5K finish line.

And one woman crossed her first half-marathon finish line with me.

Thirteen miles in the Georgia heat in the middle of August.

I almost died that day.

I hadn’t hydrated properly, and I was deathly sick by the end.

But we finished.

Both of us.

I had T-shirts made for the runners.

I still have mine today.

It says:

“I Run Because I Can.”

I’ve always tried to plant a seed in people.

Don’t just do things because you have to.
Or because someone says you should.

Do them because you can.

I’ve lived this in my own life more times than I can count.

I am a woman who doesn’t drink.
I am a woman who stopped smoking.
I am a woman who moved across the country not knowing a single person.

None of those things started as certainty.

They started as a quiet question:

What if I just did one thing?

And then a simple decision:

I can do this one thing.

It didn’t start with quitting everything all at once.

It started with a shift in how I thought about myself.

Instead of I’ll try,
I said, I don’t drink.

Instead of staying home with my coffee and a cigarette,
I took my coffee into the office.

Instead of waiting to meet people,
I created the opportunity — walking and running along the Chattahoochee.

That’s how change happens.

Not all at once.
Not perfectly.

But because you can take one step… and see what opens.

Because so many of us have the ability to create something beautiful with the life we’ve been given.

We have two legs that can walk.

We can breathe in and out without assistance.

We can see the subtle colors of sunrise.

At daybreak, we can hear the birds begin their morning song.

Not everyone has access to those simple things.

This isn’t about guilt.

It’s about waking up.

Waking up to the magic that is already available to us.

The opportunities.

The possibilities.

I fall short of this many times.

But I always return to what makes my light shine.

Just like I came to the field in the rain today.

Because I can.

And remember — you are so loved.

If this resonates and you want a space to explore your next step… come sit with me.