I mentioned previously that I’ve had an on-again/off-again relationship with running since I was a teenager.
Over the years, I have spent way more time in the “off-again” than I ever have in the “on-again” aspect of running.
I’ve also had self esteem issues, body issues, worth issues……let’s just leave it at “I have a lot of issues and my therapist need never worry about a lack of issues to work on.“
The last time I spent any amount of time running was in 2013. We were on the tail end of the “Cancer Years” and I’d just had a miscarriage for a completely unplanned pregnancy. This happened shortly after I was diagnosed with Anxiety and started on meds. The meds I was on were not optimal for early fetal development and so I quit……cold turkey.
I was in rough shape, physically, mentally, emotionally. I was in really rough shape. In an effort to run away from my problems or maybe to run towards my feelings……I started running “again”.
It was HELL.
I had no reserves to bring with me and while the running provided me with some short term endorphins. It just couldn’t sustain it.
Fast forward to 2017…..that was a year of trauma. It felt like all of my kids had HUGE issues all at the same time and I was drowning under the weight of it all.
My only instinct was to survive. I made it through 2017 and 2018. I have a lot of clarity now about the pressures we place on ourselves and how unkind we are to ourselves. But those are posts for another day.
At the end of January of 2019 – this wasn’t a New Years Resolution– I was in rough shape. I’d been extremely sedentary. I was crazy busy but a large part of my life was sitting. I didn’t exercise and it felt like my heart was going nuts. It would race and slow down and skip beats and basically just make me feel horrible and totally paranoid.
I decided to start walking. At first, a slow walk for a short period of time destroyed me. I was so frustrated because I knew where I had been and this was not even half of what I had been capable of doing. But I was determined to get healthier; so I kept going. I tried to walk at least every other day. It was slow going but I started to see improvement.
I wasn’t as sore after I walked.
I wasn’t as out of breath after I walked.
My heart rate wasn’t through the roof and it was steadily lowering.
I was able to walk faster and for longer distances.
One day in March, I decided to run for a moment and just like that, I felt like I was back at the end of January, just about dying from the effort of it all.
I wish I written down my thoughts from the beginning of the year until now because it’s been quite a journey. But I’d rather start now, and be able to look back in a year and be so excited at the progress.
I want to lose weight because I’m larger than what I should be for optimal health. BUT health is my goal…..not skinny. I ran for 20 mins without stopping on Tuesday. Okay! I was slow as a turtle but you try schlepping 225lbs around for 20 mins and report back.
I ran again today. I have these delusions that I’m going to be able to just break my previous distance and time easily. Uh ya…..that’s not my reality.
While I did go a little further today, a little faster……it was minuscule compared to what my goal is.
I was talking down to myself and feeling bummed out and then I said to myself.
“This is a win. You went for a run. You were a little bit faster and you went a little bit further but regardless, you did it! And that’s a huge win.”
I’m trying!
I’m trying to be gracious with myself. I’m trying to change the way I talk to myself and about myself. I would never talk to anyone or about anyone the way that I do to myself. It’s just not cool and I’m working on loving and championing myself; because I’m worth it.
You know, I never thought that signing up for a race would make a difference BUT….having a goal makes a HUGE difference. Why would I think I was any different than anyone else? Goals are amazing and incredible to have.
Knowing that I have the race, pushes me to stay consistent with my practice. It pushes me out of my comfort zone, in an effort to achieve more. It forces me to dream and plan and hope for what I want. It requires me to be accountable not out of shame but out of determination.
When the voices of fear whisper “What if you fail?“
I respond, “There is no failure; only a beginning.“