“How many years can some people exist before they’re allowed to be free?”
– Dylan
55:08 | 10K | New PR
12 minutes faster than December.
I didn’t just run.
I broke loose.
From the weight I used to carry.
From the me that thought this wasn’t possible.
With every step, I remembered:
I’m allowed to fly.
The cage was never locked.
Freedom in motion.
Not just a mantra—
a reckoning.
I’m not finding myself.
I’m freeing myself.
I’m free to move
without asking for permission.
I’m free to chase what lights me up
instead of what weighs me down.
I’m free to live within my own cadence,
not someone else’s expectation.
I’m free to take up space.
Fully. Unapologetically.
I’m free to run toward myself,
not away from doubt.
I’m free to speak my truth.
Stand in my fire. Never shrinking back.
I’m free to become more me
with every step forward.
I’m free to define my own finish line
and to crush it on my own terms.
“How many roads must a man walk down?”
“How many years must a mountain exist?”
“How many deaths will it take till he knows?”
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind.
Existence can be fleeting.
But it doesn’t have to be.
Nothing changes if nothing changes.
Change is the key to unlock destiny.
A fork in the road.
Rain on the mountain.
Sudden and unexpected loss.
Some bring bliss.
Some bring heartache.
All bring change.
And it’s up to the traveler to decide the road.
It’s up to the climber to choose the path.
It’s up to the survivor to keep moving forward.
It’s up to the soul to rise on the zephyr,
embracing what was always within reach.
This is my wind.
And with it, I fly. 
