Pounding.

No, I haven't beaten my roommates.

I'm not even referring to my heart and the many recent crushes I've developed.

I have a new hobby, and I'm hoping it sticks.

I've taken up running.

To those of you who know me, this probably isn't very newsworthy. I like to profess that I'm athletic, without ever achieving said athleticism. If I don't have to prove it to anyone, it doesn't really matter how many minutes it takes me to run a mile. I can claim to be an Olympic marathoner, but then we'd know I'm lying. Instead, I mostly stick to "running." Notice the quotes. I say I do it, but I don't really. I walk. Dawdle. Admire beautiful gardens. Never break a sweat.

Then, about two weeks ago, I decided to make a fresh start. I set a goal to run every day in the month of June, and let's just say that I'm fifteen days strong! I don't go super far or super fast, but I've seen myself improve immensely in just two weeks. I don't dread it anymore, and I'm actually grateful for those twenty minutes each day when I can go pound some pavement. It's a privilege for me to push my body. With how stagnant my life has seemed lately, running is one of the few things that makes me feel like I'm getting anywhere. Literally.

So while I take to the streets in my running shoes, I'll let my steady breath and my beating heart be my guides. Who knows how far they'll take me.