Blog post: Strong Enough to Cry~50k

My life changed radically in 2008 when I began training for my first marathon.  It is hard to believe it has only been 4 short years since I set out to do what “runners” do and grappled with the doubt and insecurity of entering a world in which I didn’t belong.   I have struggled with uncertainty and fear, doubting myself most of the way.  It is my default setting, whispering in my ear in the moments I am anxious and unsure of myself.

I have found purpose in my running and feel unbelievably blessed to be able to combine it with writing.  I am always incredibly touched when something I have written encourages someone else.  One comment I have never found a way to be comfortable with, is that I am an inspiration.  I squirm every time I hear this and although I try to accept the comment with grace, I fall short most times.

It is a similar discomfort I have with the challenge to be vulnerable. Being uncomfortable with it  is not the same as not being vulnerable.  I am vulnerable, sensitive, often easily hurt and exposed more often than I would like.

Running a 50 k yesterday, the hours on the trail  gave me time to think as always.   I found myself thinking about my tendency to wait just until the race to register.  I thought about my physical reaction, a tug in the pit of my stomach the night before as I was pulling in for packet pick up.  Driving into the campground of tents and athletic looking people all wearing the trademark brands of competent runners, I wanted to turn around and go home.  It is the same thought I have every time, which actually seems to be more of a feeling.  “These people belong and I don’t. “  I wait, holding my breath for the group to collectively turn and look at me, the one person who doesn’t belong there. It doesn’t happen of course, and each time I go through this I talk myself back into reality.  But the pattern is predictable, and stays with me through the start line the next morning.

I had plenty of time to analyze it yesterday.  Was I afraid I wouldn’t finish the race?  Was I afraid I couldn’t do it?  Was I afraid my body would shut down or that I would be injured? Was I afraid of being so  slow that the course closed before I got to the finish line? Was I afraid every person there would see me as an imposter, figuring out I wasn’t a real runner? Answering no to all the questions, meant I really didn’t have a good reason for doubting myself, yet I do every time. I am afraid of signing up and I am afraid of all of the things I know are not true.  I am afraid of quitting, even though I know I won’t.  I am afraid of failing even though I know finishing is good enough.  I am afraid of falling short and being judged even though it would be unjust.

In my mind I call it fearful courage.  It is as paradoxical as it sounds and I can’t explain it, because it is as emotive as it sounds.  The best I can do  is this:  It is feeling

A Weekend for Me

Just 48 hours ago the weekend stretched out ahead of me with the selfish pleasure to do whatever I wanted.  I was about to enjoy two short days of just me and my three dogs.  Friday night arrived and I found myself conflicted between my overwhelming desire to sink in to the quiet of my home, but also to dive into everything I wanted to accomplish.  With my two foster boys at a respite home for the weekend, I wanted to hoard every moment and stretch it to its fullest capacity. But I also wanted to avoid the pressure of any expectations and truly have a break from any kind of pressure or demands.  In my life of achieving, accomplishing, performing, meeting expectations, answering others needs and most days also failing, missing and neglecting, I was checking out.  I had decided I was not going to worry about anything but enjoying the moments. 

I had been looking forward to Friday night with the enthusiasm of a child waiting for Christmas.  When it was finally here I wanted to enjoy every moment of it and savor each second.  I was greedy in my need to squeeze every bit of pleasure of out of the solitude and the absence of little boys demanding attention from me.

A list person by nature, I had decided I would absolutely not make a list for the weekend.  But I admit to having an informal list in my head and if I had to outline my informal list, it included these things. 

ü  Spend as much time as possible with my three dogs that I adore.  I frequently feel a bit cheated at the end of my long days, and never get tired of hanging out with them.  To actually play with them instead of trying to frantically make sure they get some exercise at the beginning and end of my long days.

ü  Reading-actual reading just for the love of it and nothing I needed to educate myself on, educate someone else about, or know for morning

ü  Sort the mountains of paperwork that are piled throughout my house, from my office to my chair by the window, to the dining room which doubles as my desk when I need to be downstairs, to the briefcase that is so heavy I can barely lift it.  Keep in mind much of this paperwork includes articles which I can’t wait to read and never seem to get a moment for.

ü  To rifle through my notebook in which I jot all the random phrases that push into my thoughts.  These are tidbits I jot as I am in the midst of something else, always thinking how much I would love to expand on the thought. To spend time indulging my love of writing and lose myself in exploring the words and thoughts.

ü  To stay as far away as possible from the ridiculous amount of paperwork that taunts me on a daily basis.

ü  To keep plans for Saturday night despite my knowledge that I am feeling obsessive about spending as much time at home as possible.  I love my home and feel as though it is a long distance relationship, in which I constantly long for physical connection.

ü  To spend time with my mom who is always so patient and who never complains when days go by with only a few minutes for rushed phone calls, usually punctuated by telling my foster boys to stop doing whatever they are doing.

ü  To go the entire weekend without worrying about anyone’s needs but my own, except for my dogs of course. 

ü  To organize and straighten my home gym so my rushed 5:00 am workouts can be more effective and I feel a semblance of peace while I am in it.

ü  To email and call no less than 18 people that I have not talked to in way too long.  Ok at least 3 people!

ü  To get up at least one hour later each day just because I didn’t have to take care of anyone else.

ü  To enjoy my workouts for the sake of my own personal and physical accomplishment, rather than planning and coordinating someone else’s workout.

So how did I do? My weekend of solitude started at 7:00 pm Friday night and I was due to pick the boys up by 6:00 pm Sunday night.  I had just 48 hours to do all this and to relax!

Friday night when I didn’t get home until 7:00 pm I was comforted by the fact that I at least had 3-4 hours left of my day. My usual bedtime lately has been between 10:30 and 11:00.  Often I look at the clock and force myself to get to bed only because I am aware of how tired I am when 4:00 am comes.   Except on Friday night, the peacefulness of the house and the lack of demands lulled me into an early bedtime.  I was almost comatose by 9:00p.m. and sound asleep hours earlier than usual. 

My plan to sleep an hour later Saturday morning was spoiled by two of the three dogs having a wrestling match on the bed that shook the room!  Their internal alarm was outraged that it was a few minutes past 4:00 am and they hadn’t been fed.  By the time I let them outside, wrestled them away from each others food dishes, making sure the puppy got all of her food, I was wide awake.   Oh well I counted it as one of the hours I missed out on by falling asleep early. 

The rest of the weekend went much the same, with every single thing I had “planned” somehow being realigned in some way.  Most things on my list, I didn’t even get close to and by the time I picked the boys up tonight I wondered what I had done with my weekend.  My days had vanished and I was not sure where it had gone.  

If I count the checks on the list, the weekend was almost a complete failure.  Of the massive list I started with, I accomplished only a few things, failing miserably in my unofficial list for the weekend. 

B

ut when I tried to figure out where the weekend had gone this is what stood out to me: