CHASING HEIGHTS

There’s something about standing at the base of a mountain that stirs both fear and excitement. Every climb I’ve taken has taught me that the summit isn’t just a goal—it’s a mirror reflecting the doubts I’ve left behind.

The weight of each step, the burning in my legs, the thin air reminding me how fragile I really am—it’s all part of it. And yet, the view from the top always whispers the same thing: “You can go further.” Chasing heights isn’t about mountains. It’s about chasing the version of myself that I know is waiting at the peak.

RUNNING THROUGH

Running isn’t my way of escaping. It’s my way of confronting. I don’t run away from my struggles—I run through them. Every heavy breath is a reminder that discomfort isn’t an enemy—it’s a teacher. When life feels overwhelming, I hit the pavement, not because it solves everything, but because it teaches me to keep going anyway.

Out there, with nothing but the road ahead, things feel simpler—even if just for a while. It’s where I relearn patience, persistence, and the quiet strength of just moving forward. Running doesn’t erase the hard parts of life. It prepares me to face them head-on, one steady, stubborn step at a time.

STILLNESS AFTER MOTION

It’s not always the summit or the finish line that matters most—it’s what happens after. When the movement stops and everything goes quiet, that’s when the real work begins.

After the run ends, after the mountain is behind me, I sit in the stillness—and that’s when the realizations come. Moving my body has a way of clearing out the clutter in my mind, like shaking loose all the things I didn’t know I was holding onto. And in that quiet moment after motion, I often find what I was looking for all along: not a new answer, but a better understanding of myself. Sometimes, you don’t climb or run to find the world—you do it to finally meet yourself.