Thank you to my toes. Thank you to my toenails that are sometimes black, to the few hairs that sometimes sit on my first toe-knuckle, to the way I can wiggle them and tickle them awake if my foot falls asleep.
Thank you to the arches of my feet. Thank you to the way they and my toes work together to push me and propel me forward. Thank you to the way I can put the bottoms of my feet together and make something that looks like the Pope’s hat. Thank you to the strength that sits within these two little arcs.
Thank you to my heels. To the way that they catch me on a downhill. To the way I can stand on them, spin around on them, and tap them on the floor to a hot jam.
Thank you to my ankles. Thank you to the turns and twists and rolls that, while painful, allow me to appreciate better, healthier days. Thank you to the way that they pivot my feet as I take quick steps towards a finish line, or slow steps towards my bed at the end of a long day.
Thank you to my calves. Thank you to the way they form two little mountains when I push off on my way up a set of stairs. Thank you to their hairiness, to their hairlessness, to their tone, to their squishiness.
Thank you to my knees. Thank you to the little lump of muscle on the upper inside that goes unnoticed until I’m 48 seconds into a wall sit.
Thank you to my thighs and glutes. Thank you to the burn that courses through them on a tough day of hills. Thank you to the fatigue I feel on a Saturday, and yet push on and continue to move. Thank you for the staircases that they’ve endured. Thank you for always working even when I didn’t think I could.
Thank you to my stomach. Thank you to the digestive health that fuels me when I want to move. Thank you to the abdominal muscles that churn my innards and support me when I sprint. Thank you to the diaphragm that allows me to breathe, even when I struggle to take in enough air on the brink of exhaustion.
Thank you to my heart and lungs. Thank you to the trauma and effort they endure as I push myself past places and boundaries I haven’t reached before today. Thank you to all of the blood and oxygen that courses through my veins, supplies my muscles with energy, supplies my brain with thought, and supplies my entire person with life.
Thank you to my back. Thank you to my tailbone and lowest few vertebrae who are bruised from sidewalk sit-ups. To the muscles I didn’t know sat on either side of my spine until the day after a round of burpees.
Thank you to my fingers. Thank you to my hands. To the cuts they endure through pavement pushups. To the connections they make when shaking another’s hand.
Thank you to my arms. To the fire they feel after a hundred tricep dips. To the way they pull others to my chest. To the periodic swing they make in time with the feet moving beneath me.
Thank you to my head. To the eyes that take in the world moving swiftly by me as I explore a new corner of my environment. To the nose that takes in air when I can’t open my mouth. To the lips and tongue and teeth that yell when I can. To the ears that listen for encouragement, to the mouth that returns it. To the sweat that pours out of my forehead, telling me that I’ve challenged my body and have earned another day.
Thank you to my whole body. To the way that it looks different from every other body, and is just as beautiful and amazing. To the way that it works, no matter how it appears; to the way that because it is built one way, constantly changing, and allows me to accomplish my goals. To the way it moves. To the graceful, swift sprints, to the clumsy tumbles, to the slow, lingering hugs, to the quick high-fives. To the rest days, to the work days, to the mess-ups, to the successes. To everything I experience with my little pile of bones, muscle, skin, and blood.
To the house that is all mine. Thank you.
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