Originally Posted on June 10, 2023

I’ve been home for nearly six months, and time has flown by as I’ve started my new job, settled into a new place, and made new memories with my family. I’ve never been more grateful to live in the USA.

Today, I embraced my freedom by running around and playing in the mud for the first time since 2019. Qatar was magnificent in its own way with ever-present sunshine and an airport to the world. But I really missed the blue skies and red clay of Oklahoma.

After waking up at 4:40 a.m. in Fort Worth, I drank a cup of coffee, ate a protein bar, and pulled on my all-black workout outfit to head to OKC for the Rugged Maniac 5K Obstacle Race.

During the three-hour drive, I saw every stage of the sunrise as the sky changed from dark blue to pink to a glorious yellow.

As I approached Purcell, however, the puffy white clouds turned dark. I received a notification that the race was postponed until 9:30 a.m. I slowed down as the rain picked up and lightning flashed ahead.

When I finally arrived at Remington Park, my friend, Jennifer, and I hugged for the first time since our last workout together, which was pre-COVID.

It’s fascinating how friendships can pick up where they left off. It’s equally interesting how well we can recall the events of our distant past as though they occurred last week.

Five years ago, Kyle Cabelka was an attorney—a well-spoken, excellent attorney—when I was a reporter for The Lawton Constitution; I often quoted him in news stories. Now, he is the district attorney for Comanche and Cotton counties, Jennifer told me as we stood under a tent.

We both had goosebumps as the wind blew and rain drops continued to fall. Shortly before the start of our 9:30 a.m. race, we were notified that we should return to our cars until the lightning stopped.

Finally, at 10:15 a.m., after the skies cleared, we gathered at the start line among the energized strangers who shared our passion for fitness.

In between yards of running, we climbed up and over wooden barriers, crawled through the mud under barbed wire, weaseled through dirt tunnels, trekked up and around quad-killing hills, maneuvered up and over ropes courses, jumped over flaming firewood, leapfrogged across floating platforms, and propelled through cold water as we completed a round of upside-down monkey bars.

Near the end of the race, we went down a giant, inflatable slide into a pool of water—before running to the finish line. Sweaty, muddy, and smiling, I was in my element.

As we rinsed off under the community sprinklers, the sun shone bright, as it should on a Saturday in June in Oklahoma.

We can travel to lands foreign to us and learn a million new things, but some things—our friends, our passions, our freedom—cannot be replaced. They never lose their spark.