Running tentatively on joy

Photo credit: Marianne Møllmann 2026

This past Thursday, I tied on my running shoes for the first time in almost a decade. I don’t have words for the feeling accompanying this profoundly mundane action. Liberating? Anticipating? Anxiety-producing? Deeply hopeful? There really is no good way to describe it.

For context, I used to run almost daily. For many years, I didn’t question the action at all. Should I run today? What a silly question: it is a day, and so I run. I ran wherever I traveled to: Rabat, Buenos Aires, Mexico City, Cape Town, Lusaka. One time, I logged 20 miles on a treadmill in Winnipeg in January, because it was too cold to run outside. In my memory, it was never boring, though of course I know it must have been. Even so, the overarching feeling I got from running was always joy.

And then my knees gave out.

My knees have never been super sturdy. Now, after becoming a yoga teacher and supporting others in taking care of their bodies, I have learned to approach my own with curiosity and empathy. And so I know that some part of this is just how my bones twisted as they grew. Some part is bad sprains while skiing. Some part is 10 years of wearing mostly high-heeled shoes. And some part is marathon training through pain. In any case, the net result was deep discomfort whenever I ran.

And so I stopped. I missed it terribly for years, though yoga took up some of the focus. If I am honest, I think it was easier to stop running altogether than to keep trying to run the short distances I had always held as inferior to endurance training. I tried to get back to running a couple of times, but the resulting — and often lasting —pain was too present to override.

In short: until this past week, I hadn’t run at all, not even after the bus, for the past 8 years.

So what changed? For one thing, science. My brother told me of new running shoes that were supposed to alleviate knee pain. Filled with tentative hope, I bought them.

But yoga also changed me: I know now that running for however long my body can run, is the correct distance. I know that I am capable of listening to my body. I know that the purpose of being in this body is to always evolve, to always try. And so when I tied on the shoes on Thursday, I knew that an essential part of the process would have to be to treat running like yoga: as a way to be present and aligned.

I ran 12 minutes on Thursday.

It was exhilarating and beautiful and weird and really, really hard. And I absolutely loved it. My knees are still holding up. And I will keep listening to make sure that we — my knees and I — continue to be on this journey together.