Dear Pavement on the side of Queens Road West in Charlotte, North Carolina:
Thank you for being dug up that day last August when I set out on an early morning run. Thank you for being poorly lit by the lack of streetlights on your road. Thank you for making it nearly impossible for me, especially without my contacts in, to see that you were dug up until I was less than a foot away from you. Thank you for forcing me to dodge the tiny little rope strung around you, held up by wooden posts, like a little tent with no top.
Because if I hadn’t leapt so hastily to avoid you, dear Pavement, I would never have completely busted ass and sprained my ankle in a terrible, terrible way. I wouldn’t have laid on the grass, in the dark, crying, or hobbled home for two dreadful miles with tears in my eyes. I wouldn’t have worn a brace for months, or struggled with compensation injuries for the better part of a year.
If it weren’t for you, Pavement, I wouldn’t have learned that sometimes, shit just happens to us. Sometimes we want to be able to run marathons and we can’t. Sometimes “why me?” is the most irrelevant thing to
If it werent for you, Pavement, I never would have begun attending morning yoga classes as a replacement for my daily runs. I would not have discovered my practice that fall, in the hot, dark room at Charlotte yoga, and found something that would make me proud of what my body could do, rather than frustrated by its weakness. I never would have become a yogi.
Were it not for you, oh little square of Pavement, I would never have enrolled in teacher training. I would never have met that special group of people that taught me how to love myself, taught me how to be strong, taught me that I was enough. I never would have felt so loved by a community of people in Charlotte. I may never have learned to meditate, or understood my own personal power. I never would have been able to show myself that I can be a teacher.
Were it not for you, Pavement friend, I would not have been brave enough to go it on my own. I would not have gained the personal strength I needed to end a relationship. I would not have realized that I needed to break away from the complacent life I was living. I may never have considered leaving my job.
Without you, Pavement, I wouldn’t have learned that everything happens for a reason. That once I believed in myself, once I was free, I could take the leap and commit to leaving it all behind and embarking on my life’s greatest adventure. I never would have booked a one-way ticket to India. I never would have filled a prescription for Malaria pills. I never would have run off to Asia with my best friend.
Source: Mariel Nunes
So thank you, torn-up piece of pavement that I’ve cursed so many times before. I know that God stuck you in my path for a reason. You taught me humility, and realism, and you set into motion the path of the rest of my life. I’ll never forget you.