Three years on, I’m back in Phoenix, Arizona.
I left this place believing I’d retired from the sport I dearly love and enjoy. I left here with a broken heart (dramatic, I know but so true). Because when I left I’d just ruptured my Achilles tendon and was heading home for surgery and to start a new life as a ‘normal’ person. No more track. No more field. No more jumping into a sand pit.
And yet, here I am. Three years later.
Jumping into a sand pit. Sprinting on the track. Throwing 8-10lb medicine balls at my training partner here, Ben. (See pictures for reference).
I’m only here for a short while. But I’ll make every moment count.
I can’t begin to explain the joy, peace and awe I feel returning to a place I feel so close to I’d call it ‘home’.
Home is where the heart is. It’s where the happiness is. It’s where you feel most content.
My track peeps feel like family.
At the track and in the weights facility, Exos I have been welcomed. So many familiar, smiling faces. It’s like I never left. Truly.
But I did.
And now I’m back, even if for the briefest moments, I value this time so much I’m going to memorialise it with my first blog post in a while. (And because Kristi keeps getting on me to write my blogs!)
Anybody else experience this same soppy feeling when returning ‘home’? Or is it just me?