Winter in Michigan.  Categorized by grey, cold, dreary, overcast days.  It's 18 degrees out.  I didn't want to run.  I knew I had to get out there as I have scheduled several races this season including a half and full marathon, and quite frankly, they aren't going to run themselves.  I need to start training, but I so didn't want to go.A friend of mine reminded me I needed to go anyway.  Thank you.When I started, the  "funk" that has been with me over the past few days came too.  I wasn't able to pinpoint the source of this "funk", but just the same, recognized its presence.  I've been crabby, a little short-tempered with my kids, and just have felt out of sorts.  The music of the Killers, Wicked (soundtrack), House of Pain, Jill Jack and Oasis filled my mind with an eclectic mix of words and music.  Rhythmically, my steps followed....pounding out my negativity.  Then, as it usually does, it came to me.  The source of my funk.For nearly 14 years, I've been "Michelle from Gilda's" (a free cancer support community for anyone diagnosed, who has a family member or friend with, or has had someone die from his/her cancer).  I have known my role, embraced the mission, and had a vision of what it could become.  I was confident in my skill set, comfortable talking with people about their cancer journey, and capable to speak on cancer and cancer support in the small community or to an audience at large.  But somewhere along the way, I needed a change.  I needed to be challenged again in my career, and selfishly I wanted to know that I was more than "Michelle from Gilda's".Now, before anyone ever thinks it's because I don't love the community, let me clarify.  I love it!   My Dad is a member (and now a board member), I refer everyone I know to the community, and I've fundraised thousands of dollars personally and participate on planning committees for 2 fundraisers per year.  I am their biggest fan.  But it's just in that statement that my funk existed, it's not "mine" anymore.  I'm not "Michelle from Gilda's", and it's kind of hard to grasp.The "funk" had been starting slowing over the past few months, but took its full form this weekend.  My running friends and I planned and hosted a third-party event for Gilda's called "Bling in the New Year".  Picture a road rally, on foot.  It was wildly successful, raising nearly twice as much as it did last year and recruiting more participants.  I was the committee chairperson (I think because no one else wanted to speak in front of the crowd) and found myself tripping over my words all day of "our community"....remembering it's not my community anymore.Comfort for so many of us comes in knowing what the next step in life is.  Knowing what our path looks like before we even embark on the journey.  It provides stability and safety.Ever since I took my first psychology class at Bishop Watterson Highschool, I've known that I wanted to be a clinical therapist.  I changed disciplines from psychology to social work, but the essence of what I have wanted to do has remained steadfast.  Positively affect the lives of others.  It was always easy to state "yes, I do that" working at Gilda's Club- because the mission is so important and the program has been proven to positively effect the lives of those touched by cancer.  So I wondered, how can I still have that affect, and not be who I was for so long?As a clinical social worker, my struggles or concerns are no different from my clients in many ways.  Clinicians are not often quick to acknowledge our own weakness or limitations, but they exist in all humans nonetheless.  I don't always have the answers, I get impatient with myself when the change doesn't come easy or my path in life unclear.On the run today, I isolated my "funk" as the grief of letting go of part of the person I was for so long, but needed to let go of in order to grow.  With every step I took on the run today, I felt the "funk" lift a little from me, allowing me to let go of the fear of not knowing exactly where my path is leading me.  I feel at peace in allowing the journey to unfold before me, and knowing that no matter where I go, it's where I'm meant to be.  It felt freeing, and my friend was right, I felt better after I ran.  I always do.Quote for today...."Work and live to serve others, to leave the world a little better than you found it and garner for yourself as much peace of mind as you can.  This is happiness." David SarnoffPeace and happiness of you journey......