Olivia Savage sat in her Prius, staring endlessly at the mountain in front of her. She’d been doing so for a half an hour, and she still couldn’t bring herself to budge. She closed her eyes and hoped that some inner focus might do the trick. She breathed deeply and concentrated.
The air seeping through her lowered window was cool, indicative of an Arizona dawn in early spring. She loved the way an awakening desert smelled as new life bloomed, growing and thriving, eager for the rays of the sun. She, too, was eager, wanting to grow and thrive herself. She’d already made some big changes. Like leaving her marriage and her mind-numbing job as a medical assistant and going back to school. But she also had a secret longing for something that she thought of often.
Love.
Real love. True love.
She wanted to know what it felt like to really love and be loved. She’d been married, but she knew that wasn’t love. She still didn’t quite know what that was. But it definitely wasn’t love. Would she ever find it? Would she recognize it if she did? She didn’t know. The whole thing seemed more like a pipe dream so she kept her line of sight on her other, more realistic wish.
She wanted to get into shape.
But so far, she just hadn’t been able to get herself started. And today, it seemed, was going to be a repeat of other previous attempts. Because instead of just climbing from the car and walking straight toward that mountain trail, she was sitting there overthinking, unable to move. Too stuck in her head to get herself going. The negative thoughts just kept coming, replaying in her mind like warped film on an old projector. The voice in her twisted movie sounded like a drone, and the images contorted and skipped on the screen. The message, however, was still the same.
You’re fat.
You’re useless.
I’m not going to tell you you look good when you don’t.
She’d left her husband, Kenny, a little over a year ago, yet she couldn’t shake him from her thoughts. He was always there, an ever-evolving demon slinging insult after insult. She was so familiar with his evil song his words had become a mantra.
And that mantra was killing her.
Things hadn’t started so bad with Kenny. They were compatible and she really did care about him. He had been kind and even a little reserved when they’d first met. His gentle manner had put her at ease, and she never would’ve guessed he had a mean or angry bone in his body. But his behavior changed. Slowly at first, with subtle jabs at her abilities as a wife or her cooking or the way she organized things in the house. She blamed stress and his job, and when they’d discussed having children and agreed to try, she thought for sure a child would change everything and he’d be happy. That they’d be happy.
But children were not in the cards for her. She couldn’t get pregnant, and when they went to the doctor and found out why, Kenny’s behavior grew worse.
She couldn’t conceive and she would never be able to.
She had been devastated.
Kenny blamed her, like she had somehow caused her condition. He barely spoke to her for weeks, and when he did, he wasn’t kind. He was angry, and his once few and far between insults of her became an everyday thing. His disdain for her dripped off of him, and there had been many times when she’d worried for her safety. Thankfully, he’d never physically harmed her, but that fear alone had been traumatizing. No one should ever have to be afraid in their own home.
It had been that realization that had helped her find the strength and courage to end things. He hadn’t been happy about it. Not in the least. But she had been determined. She’d told him she was leaving whether he tried to physically stop her or not. There was no way he was going to be able to prevent her from leaving forever. He’d finally come to realize that and he’d backed off.
The day she walked out of that house for good had been the best day of her life so far.
But now there were other hills to climb.
She squeezed the steering wheel and opened her eyes. The mountain loomed in front of her, waiting. Though it was just a huge mound of rock and dirt, it seemed to hold her entire future. All she had to do was get out of the car and claim it. But she still couldn’t bring herself to move.
She pushed out a long breath and considered her options. She could remain in the car, restart the engine, and drive back home. Doing so would definitely save her the pain of having to conquer the mountain. There would be no struggling for breath, no certain but irrational feelings of dying, no horrible, awful stabbings or aching. She wouldn’t be sore tomorrow, and she wouldn’t risk injury or have to worry about waking up extra early to return day after day.
Staying in the car would be easy. Safe. She would know exactly what to expect.
While being pain free and continuing with her predictable, easy physical life sounded great, she knew in her heart it wouldn’t work.
Because that’s what she’d been doing. And she was beyond miserable.
The only way to the top of that mountain was to climb it, plain and simple. She knew it. Now all she had to do was do it.
“Damn it.” She slammed her hands down and then quickly grabbed her phone and earbuds and climbed from the car before she could change her mind. She closed the door and stood looking at the desert trail ahead. The gentle coo of stirring doves tried to soothe her, but she couldn’t relax. She was too worried about failing. No, what she needed was music. She needed it loud and she needed it now.
With her earbuds in place, she strapped her phone to her forearm and turned on her playlist. She began to walk, leaving her car and any temptation to escape behind. Instead, she allowed the music to move her, to ready her for her ascent.
Excitement and motivation began to grow. Soon, she was walking briskly, happily breathing in the crisp morning air. When she reached the base of the trail, she began to jog.
This isn’t so bad.
Sure, it had been a while since she’d run, but so far it wasn’t hurting. Why hadn’t she done this more often? She’d ran off and on throughout the years strictly for exercise, to lose a few pounds here and there, but it had never become a habit and she hadn’t beat herself up over it. Athletics in general had never interested her. She didn’t consider chasing a ball for over an hour fun. She didn’t like watching others do it either, so why would she ever want to play?
She continued and tried to remain focused on her music. The trail began to incline, and she slowed as she pushed her body forward. She became aware of her breathing, feeling as if her airway had tightened and oxygen was struggling to get through. Her mouth was drying out, and she realized she was counting her steps. She tried to ignore it all and just run, but soon an onslaught of other things came at her. Her legs began to burn, something stabbed at her ribs, and her heart thudded hard and heavy like it was lead.
She recalled why she’d never made running a habit.
It felt awful.
She made it up an incline only to turn at a small bend in the trail and find another. She tried to curse, something she very rarely did, but instead she choked, too starved for air to speak. She stumbled to a stop and bent with her hands on her knees, trying desperately to breathe. But it only caused her chest to ache. Wincing with pain, she straightened, only to feel another pierce to her ribs. She glanced back at her car. It sat next to another in the dirt lot, looking like a pod of failure with wheels, waiting for her to return and crawl inside like a defeated, dying animal.
No.
She couldn’t.
Wouldn’t.
Oh, but the seat would feel so good. And the drive home would be so nice with the windows down. And she could stop at Circle K and get a Thirst Buster full of icy Diet Coke. Yes, that would be so nice.
But Kenny’s words came at her again, slapping her in the face, just as they did each and every day. Tears brimmed in her eyes. Not just because of the insults, but from the pain of the run and the struggle to change. Why was it so difficult? Why couldn’t she do this? Why was it so many other people could? Maybe he was right. Maybe she was useless. But that thought only made her angry. Because she’d believed him for a long time. But toward the end, she’d stopped. She’d stopped and fought. He wasn’t right. He’d never been right.
And she’d be damned if she’d admit that he was now.
“No,” she said. “Not today.”
She walked on, despite the pain. With her fists clenched, she pushed herself to run. She climbed step after step until she was forced to stop to regain her bearings and strength. Once she recovered, however, she started again, urging herself up the mountain, until eventually, she reached the top where she staggered, like she was no longer used to level ground. Her head pounded, her body shook and screamed with pain, and she couldn’t catch her breath. She fought passing out and stumbled again, this time off the trail where she bent to vomit. Though there was very little in her stomach, the retching was relentless, punishing her body even more. When it finally ended, she hobbled to a large rock and sat, hoping to put her suffering at ease.
She removed her earbuds, the music now loud and intrusive. She closed her eyes, way too physically overwhelmed to enjoy her success. Yes, she’d made it to the top but she’d paid the price. Her entire body trembled and hurt so badly she wondered how she was going to make it back down. And how in the world was she going to be able to do this every day?
Tears formed again, and this time she let them. They were warm, like she imagined her blood to be. Maybe that’s what they were. Maybe she was bleeding out the pain with her hot tears. She stared down at her hands, unable to enjoy the view of the valley below. She looked up at the sky and prayed for the shaking and aches to stop. She prayed for the ability to walk back down the mountain. But most of all, she prayed for the calm that only inner peace could bring.