Yesterday afternoon, I busted out 10 miles. Truth be told, I had anxiety the entire week about this run. While laying in bed yesterday morning, I had come up with at least 14 excuses to not run the 10 miles. “Oh. Its SO cold out ( it was 30 degrees). My throat hurts. I have enough time in my training so I can skip 1 long run. I can do my run Monday morning at 5am before anyone gets up”. Husband just let me say my excuses and he listened to me play this out loud. Finally, I told him the truth. I was scared of 10 miles. Something about 10. Being out of the single digits. More time on my feet. “What if I forget how to run? What I get cold, hungry, thirsty or tired? What if I get kidnapped? What if I get hit by a falling tree? The “What Ifs” in my mind were none stop.
Husband headed downstairs to fix fancy breakfast potatoes ( so very good!) and I had more time to really face my anxiety head on. Anxiety was fear. Fear of failing. Not being good enough. The self imposed expectations that I had placed on myself were showing their ugly faces (again.) I started to do some soul searching about my relationship with running. Is this healthy if it is causing me such a level of anxiety? Running is such a part of who I am ( soul level speak here) that just like I can not imagine my life without husband, I can’t imagine my life without running.
Yesterday , I committed to myself to not live in fear of the “what if”. Sure, some things are scary because they are new or uncharted territories but you don’t know, until you know. Not to mention, I did sign myself up for the Chicago Marathon lottery. 10 miles has nothing on 26.2 miles! My current training is to hit sub2 at the half marathon I am running on April 24th.
A gal from my running group agreed to meet me for the run yesterday. She was only supposed to run 6 but after I told her I had 10 to tackle, she said ” Ah. Whats 4 more!” The run was awesome. Amazing. Goal pace was 9:30. We crushed it.
This weeks intention before running… empty my negative thoughts, fears and doubts. Right foot.Left foot. Repeat.
I am not running away from you, I am running towards the next page.
The picture posted is my daughter, M (6), running last week at a local reservation we love to go too. It was 60 degrees in Ohio in February. The day sounded and felt like Spring. This reservation has something called Storybook Trail. Our library puts a children’s book one page at a time along a path on a wooden covered post to encourage reading while being active. The book is usually 15 pages long. M and I look forward to this very much. The books are changed out the first of the month. (Have I mentioned how grateful I am for our community and library? They are always coming up with new ideas to keep the kiddos engaged in reading.)
M was running ahead and I said to her ” Hey you!!! Why are you running away from me!??!” M’s response ” I am not running away from you, I am running towards the next page”. Wow. That simple phrase made me stop, take out my phone to capture this moment. That’s it. Right there. What M said. Running towards the next page.
Being a runner, I love to run TO something. I often run to the lake. The treadmill feels like someone is locking me up in a small room with no windows. To be running and going nowhere is an awful feeling for me. I will brave almost all elements just to avoid the dreadmill. I know this about myself so why do I continue to ” lock myself in a small room with no windows” about things in my past that I need to move on from? Why can’t I just run towards the next page? I have already read that page ( time and time and time again). The words never change. The image is imprinted. Its part of my story.
I am living “running and going nowhere” when I obsessively dwell on events that occurred years ago. No matter how many times I hash it out- think it through- make up different or happier endings, the page will not change. It is set in ink.
And it’s just as it should be. My story is being written with times of sorrow, depression, anger, hate, and innocence. Just as well, my story includes joy, humor, love, happiness and hope.
I will run to the next page with the same excitement, adventure and enthusiasm as M did last Wednesday. Now… if I could just find a pair on pink glittery cowgirl boots in my size….
That silent voice that keeps getting louder… maybe it is time to listen.
This week has been filled with a repetitive message that the universe is trying to teach me (as well as some of my dearest friends and family)… When to let go. Often, we hold on to expectations, beliefs, situations and even people, when deep down the voice inside of us is screaming “NO. GO”. Is it fear of giving up on someone or something? Is it that this person or expectation defines who we are? Is it that we feel obligated? Are we “what if’ing” ourselves into the possibility of a better future?
I have not ran since last Friday This left leg thing is really stubborn and hurts like a mother. I am supposed to be training for a half marathon in April. Sunday, husband and I attempted to run a few miles ( and for the record, husband only runs with me maybe 1-2 a year with much, much persistence). The pain was intense. I had to stop. I had to let go of the fact that running was not going to happen. I was in pain and upset because all I wanted to do is enjoy a nice sunny Sunday run with my soul man. In fact, I was having such a hard time letting go, I attempted to run 2 more times even when the tears were washing my cheeks. It was time to face reality. My body was screaming NOOO and I was responding back GOOOO. I know that I will heal and will be hitting the streets very soon. I had to let go of that run and my expectations.
The Uncle situation is a hot mess. After multiple phone calls and attempts to try to help him to help himself, I finally needed to let go of this. I can not want to live his life more than he does. The love and support is here but Uncle doesn’t want it.
Morning routines need to be followed in order for M to successfully get out the door fed, read, brushed and trussed in time for the bus. Letting this idea go has made me a less insane mommy in the mornings. Worse case scenario…if we are running behind… I take her to school( a mere 7 minute car ride). Best case scenario… no tears or screaming from anyone in the wee hours of the morning.
A hard area for me, that I am always trying to let go or balance ( damn Libra’s), is cleaning the house. It needs to be done but I don’t want it to take away time from the kiddos or from my “me” time. I am working on the fact that the house does not need to be this or that. Growing up, cleaning or having a clean room, was the only way that I was shown love. To me, clean = worthy of love or that I was not a good child because of this “mess”. Saturday mornings were spent trying to make the house spotless while at the same time praying that this would be the day that I did enough or that the house was clean enough, so I would be loved by my parents. This day never came. And I know it never will.