Through the woods behind my childhood home was a public golf course. As a kid, I would sneak onto the 14th hole in the evening and play a few holes before darkness. (Year later, I learned that my dad secretly paid for me to play.) Three years ago, the golf course went out of business.
When I went back home this Thanksgiving, I wandered behind my house to see what had become of the golf course. Emerging onto the old 14th hole, I was stunned. The course was unrecognizable—overgrown and wild, like something out of an apocalyptic movie. The manicured fairways were thick with waist-high weeds and brambles, and the greens were hidden beneath patches of grass and brush.
But as I looked closer, I realized the bones of the course were still there. The concrete golf paths, though cracked and weathered, remained. The contours of the fairways and bunkers were visible beneath the overgrowth. The structure of what had once been a beautiful course hadn’t disappeared; it was just waiting for someone to bring it back to life.
We all go through seasons in our fitness—times when life takes over and our running feels overgrown and forgotten. But the miles we’ve logged and the effort we’ve put in over the years don’t vanish. The foundation of your fitness—the landscaping of your work—remains.
As this year winds down and you start thinking about next year, maybe there’s a goal you want to chase again. Even if you’re not running as fast or as far as you once did, that foundation is still there. It’s just waiting for you to start trimming back the overgrowth, step by step, until you uncover the strength and resilience you thought you’d lost.