Run, Gurl

Sweat It Out

Let’s talk about the audacity of choosing to be tired.

As Black mothers navigating our 40s, exhaustion is practically a baseline. Between managing the daily beautiful chaos of the JSquad, nurturing a marriage, and building out a creative incubator from the ground up, society (and perimenopause) already extracts a massive amount of our physical and mental energy. So, when I decided to start distance running back in December 2025, the metacognitive hurdle was very real. Why on earth would I volunteer for more physical exertion when my tank is so often tapping on empty?

Here is the tea: there is a profound, structural difference between the historical, uncompensated physical toll exacted from us by American capitalism and the joyful, chosen exhaustion of hitting the pavement. We know the history. We know how our labor—both paid and unpaid—has subsidized state neglect and stabilized the economy, all while we receive the largest deficit of care in return.

Running has become my somatic rebellion against that legacy. It is about reclaiming bodily autonomy. When I am out there, I am not producing for a system or providing a communal care network. I am propelling my own body forward simply because I can. It is the deeply personal, entirely selfish labor of choosing my own movement.

If you are out here feeling depleted by the endless care economy we uphold every single day, I see you. This running journey isn’t just about lacing up a pair of sneakers; it’s about figuring out how we carve out space to prioritize our own physical release and reclaim our stride.

December 2025: Breaking the Inertia and the Ancestral Technology of Movement

We all know New Year’s Resolutions fail by the end of January when you start them Jan. 1. I have had the most success with starting a new habit a few weeks before the new year, so that by the time the new year rolls around, it is already something my mind and body are used to doing. The physical inertia wasn’t a slow creep; it was an ambush. Between the festive chaos of the holidays and the intense deadline for the Myth & Marrow narrative literature review, my schedule shifted dramatically. I went from constant, natural movement to sitting in a chair for hours, fueled by late-night fast food and the heavy cortisol of academic rigor.

I poked at the new jiggle in the mirror and made a deal with myself: I have the discipline to write a manuscript for peer review. Therefore, I have the discipline to run a half-marathon.

At first, this was supposed to be a “quiet quest”—a secret goal kept entirely to myself just in case I failed. Quiet quests are designed to keep our energy and intellect focused amidst the confusion, oppression, and exploitation of our present age. But as I started hitting the pavement in December, I realized that movement is an ancestral technology. I couldn’t keep it quiet. If there is another mother out there, a woman managing financial obligations, a sistah with weight she didn’t ask for who wants to prove to herself that she can do it—I had to make this public for her. The “Rollin’ Researcher” era had to end so the “Runnin’ Researcher” era could begin.

January 2026: Momentum, Metacognition, and the 5 AM Wake-Up Call

By January, the daily reality of the training plan truly set in. Do I want to be up and running by 4:58 AM? Absolutely not. There is something spiritually violent about an alarm going off that early. But my active brain knows that if I don’t run before the JSquad wakes up and the daily demands take over, I don’t run at all. This made my wife nervous enough to buy me a reflective vest (one of the reasons my mother, who was also very concerned about me running alone in the dark, is such a big fan of my chosen life partner!).

I also quickly found out that my legs apparently do not know how to count. One Sunday, what was supposed to be a structured four-mile run accidentally turned into 5.57 miles because I started out way too fast (9:22/mile!) and paid for it by mile three, where my soul briefly left my body. But we recovered! I even shocked myself during a shorter run by clocking an 8:54 mile. I felt like an absolute superhero for exactly one mile before remembering I am 42 and doing this to fight off desk-chair consequences.

The physical toll is real, but so is the rhythm. During that 8-minute mile, I felt actual flow. Applying my own AFROP rating to this new lifestyle, the Practicalities are undeniably taxing—it costs sleep and energy. But the Real Experiences and Opportunities? Extremely high. It is infinitely cheaper than buying a whole new wardrobe because my pants don’t fit, and it is the ultimate way to reclaim my body from the desk chair.

February 2026 to Present: The Long Haul and the Half-Marathon Horizon

When I started this journey, I was genuinely skeptical I could even make it a single mile. Back in high school, I was a sprinter—and a bad one at that. The idea of running for a solid mile straight felt physically impossible. But then I surprised myself and did two. And then three.

Three miles quickly became my mental brick wall. For weeks, I couldn’t get past three or four miles. My body would just decide it was time to walk, or my brain would demand we quit altogether. But this February, I hit six miles. Let me tell you, that was no small mental feat. The ability to keep my brain together for a solid hour while my body worked was a massive challenge. I am a physical person, but I am also an intellectual one; I love living in my thoughts. Running has become this incredible exercise in metacognition, connecting my brain with my body in a way I never have before.

Now, I love yoga. My Boo came all the way through for Valentine’s Day, buying me all sorts of new yoga equipment along with a runner’s vest—because that is what a supportive partner looks and feels like all day. But running does something entirely different to my system. Getting past that three-mile mark and truly understanding what it means to hit a stride… I reach this place where I feel like I am almost floating. I become completely connected to everything my body is feeling, and it all feels so good. Which is wild to say, considering I am undoubtedly drenched in sweat at the time.

Honestly, that floating exhaustion is exactly what being a Black woman in America feels like to me. We exert so much effort, yet sometimes we reach this euphoria and higher connection to the universe around us. It is deeply ironic that I am so adamant about Black women being paid for their labor, while simultaneously being just as adamant about not charging Black women for my own work. Running as a somatic activity makes perfect sense for where I am in my life and in the world right now. It is a tactile and figurative reminder of daily life.

The physical reward is in the pounds and inches I’ve dropped, the energy I’ve recovered, and the confidence I’ve built. But the spiritual reward? Continuing to hit these training goals right alongside watching the Labor Pains Project pick up real traction in Albany and Oakland. It is nothing short of amazing.

What’s your somatic release?

Connect with MetaCocoMom

• Website: metacocomom.com
• Instagram: @metacocomom
• Facebook: @metacocomom
• LinkedIn: @metacocomom
• TikTok: @therealmetacocomom
• Newsletter: Subscribe to AFROXpress