How 13.1 Miles Changed My Life.
Have you ever wanted to try something, but were afraid to? Have you ever had a dream that one day you would do something, but fear held you back? Did you ever say to yourself, "one day I will give that a shot," but one day never actually seemed to come? For me, my life was lived by these questions. Hesitation, fear, doubt often limited my vision of my future and my abilities. It felt like as soon as an idea would pop in my head, all those roadblocks flooded my brain until the idea was run out of town, never to be heard from again.
Idea exists. Fear intervenes. Idea no longer exists.
In the spring and summer of 2018, I remember two distinct times I said to myself, I wish I could run some type of marathon, ya know, that is something I really want to do. The first came in April when I was watching a reality tv show where someone was training for and preparing to run the NYC marathon. I thought wow, the dedication and commitment this type of training takes, I want to do that someday. That thought stayed with me until the next day when during a Crossfit class I struggled to run several 400 meter intervals. Well, there you go, I thought, you can't even run 400 meters how would you ever run multiple miles? Idea exists. Fear intervenes. Idea no longer exists. The second was at a yoga retreat in July. Several of us were talking about triathlons, endurance sports, and marathons. This was the first time, I really said out loud to people, I really want to run a marathon, but with heavy self-deprecation, joked I couldn't even run 400 meters. They all pushed right passed that, and one woman said, "you should just do it! Give it a try, you'll be so proud of yourself that you did it." Just give it a try? How do I just try something I have never done before? How do I know I can even make it? I can't even begin to comprehend how people just do things without any guarantee of success or completion? Perfectionist much! Oh yes, the dreaded perfectionism reels its ugly head and once again - Idea exists. Fear intervenes. Idea no longer exists. I quietly responded, "Um, ya, maybe....," and the subject matter changed back to the incredible weekend we were having at the retreat, and we all moved on.
Facing the Fear
Just 2 or 3 short weeks later, my husband and I were at our local coffee shop and there hanging on the wall was a poster for a local half-marathon that was taking place in late October. My husband said, "Hey, look, you should sign up for that." All casual like as if this was something, he instinctively knew I should do. I stared at the poster for a good minute or two. Here it is. My chance to face my fear and my hesitation and my doubt. This feeling of determination and empowerment very quietly began to rise in the back of my mind. Could I do this? Could this be the race - my race? I took a picture of the flyer. On that hot July morning, the fall foliage scene with the golden hues of fallen leaves, made me long for October. Did I want October to come so I could enter this race? Was I being pulled by the beautiful photo, or by something bigger? We grabbed our coffee, and we moved on.
For the next 5 weeks, I researched everything I possibly could ... the trail path, the gains and losses in elevation, the predicted weather for that location at that time of year. I looked up YouTube videos of people who had biked/walked the path to get an idea of what it looked like, where the possible hill climbs would be. I went over the course map more times than I can remember. I thought if I did all this research, gathered all of the information I could, the answer to register or not would shine through it all like a lighthouse on the shore making the decision for me. Well, we all know it doesn't really work that way and at some point, we need to go all in or let it all go. On a quiet and sunny Sunday morning while my husband and animals were still sleeping, I sat with my cup of coffee and my laptop open to the registration page. I began entering my information, my excitement and nervousness and my "what the hell am I getting myself into" growing with each click of the keyboard. I entered my payment method and with a big breath in and exhale release I moved my mouse over and hit REGISTER. Here I go -- I am all in.
Planning Does Not Always Make Perfect
After I hit the registration button, I knew my training timeframe was short. I had exactly 8 weeks between saying hell yes!, to saying here we go!, and hearing that race horn blow. I started with a few short miles--2-2.5 in length, then I built up to 4, then 5, then 6, and even did two 8-mile runs. The thing was each run felt absolutely amazing! I could not believe my legs were carrying me for these miles I had never run before in my life. I felt strong and capable and like wow, I really am going to do this. I am not kidding when I say tears would fill my eyes on every single run. After spending so many years in pain (see previous blog entry - Is the Healing Complete?), I was amazed at how easily my body was moving. How incredible it felt to feel each foot hit the pavement and bounce right back up to take another step and another step and another step. My breathing felt good and in control, my arms were strong and helped propel me forward mile after mile.
Then one beautiful Thursday morning in September as I headed out for a 3.5 mile run after Crossfit, my ankles seized up. Like literally stopped working with 1.5 miles left in my run. I had to slowly and gently and very awkwardly walk myself back to the gym. It took me over 45 minutes to walk back. I thought okay, well I guess that was a little too much, so time for me to slow it down. I rested for the day and when I woke up the next morning and stood up to get out of bed, I knew something was definitely not right. I had been running mile after mile, all of these amazing runs where I felt strong and capable in shoes that had minimal padding and support. As much mobility as I had thought I was bringing to my ankles to support these runs it wasn't enough at that time. My ankles and calves took on too much too fast and I was left barely able to walk, let alone run. At this point I was 4-weeks out from the race, which may seem like enough time, but the condition my ankles were in I knew I would be cutting it close, IF I could even make it to the race.
I could have easily say to hell with it, I messed this all up, I hurt myself, and now my goal, the goal I had wrapped up so many emotions into was out of reach. Pack it in, stop running, stop training, its all over. Believe me, I would be lying if I said those thoughts did not enter my mind, if I said I did not throw myself 1, 2, maybe even 3 pity-parties during this time. Yet, what is so incredible is when you let people in, tell them what’s going on, and ask for help and advice, it pours in. I had two incredible women step up and help me through those 4-weeks - and while a lot of it was my responsibility, I firmly believe I would not have been able to make it to race day without them. Their advice, support, and just downright belief in me made such an incredible difference to the condition of my ankles, but more importantly the condition of my mind and spirit. If they thought I could do this, there is no way I am not going to still give it a shot. With some focused exercises, a lot of rest, multiple ice packs, daily turmeric, and new supportive running shoes, I was 100% ready for race day.
Race Day
On a blistery Saturday morning in October, I awoke early, drank my coffee in the silence of the morning, ate a small bowl of oatmeal, talked quietly to my dogs, telling them how excited and nervous and proud of myself I was about what was to happen later that morning I woke my husband with a kiss and a cup of coffee. He had only gotten home from work 6 hours ago and had slept a total of 5 hours and 20 minutes before rising again. He would be driving me, staging himself at the beginning, end, and one place along the way to keep pushing me and cheering me on. We left in the dark, heading north to the start of the race. It was windy, definitely chilly, and every once in awhile a small amount of snow would fall from the sky. We arrived very early, Andre would say, very VERY early, probably one of the first 10 racers to get there. I checked in, received my bib number and settled in to wait for the start. An incredible energy filled the room, something I had never felt before. It resonated in me as a mixture of excitement and strength, somewhere between courage and fear. I was going to do this, I was absolutely going to fucking do this.
As we headed out for race announcements 20-minutes before start time, I was not prepared for the snowstorm that hit me in the face as I exited the building. Oh damn, it is snowing and the wind is blooooowing. Not just a breeze, like full on windstorm. Ahh...am I going to do this? I headed back in after announcements for what I think was my twentieth stop to the bathroom -- nothing like an already nervous pee-er on the morning of her first 1/2 marathon. And then it was time, it was time to say goodbye to Andre, to put my earphones in, to turn on my pace tracker, and head to the start line.
Life Changed
There really are no words I can access to describe what that day was like. I had set myself 3 goals: first - just finish the race. just finished however you can, cross that finish line. second - run the whole thing, keep moving forward, change your pace but don't stop, don't stop moving your legs. third - stay within :30 seconds of your training pace minute mile average. Hitting one of these goals I would have taken as a huge win. Two? Absolutely. All three? The most wonderful undeniable feeling of power/strength/self-worth/self-belief/accomplishment/pride/love. I ran the hell out of that race. I ran that race for some many reasons -- for the people in my life who loved me through some of the hardest years of my existence, for those who supported my goals and my training, who believed in me from day 1. Most importantly, I ran that race for me. I ran that race for those years it hurt to even walk, to even get off the couch. I ran that race for every fear and doubt that had filled my head for the past 35-years of my life that no longer existed. Those fears and doubts that would no longer and could no longer take up room in my mind-space telling me I couldn't do something. I ran that race to show myself I could do it. I could fucking do it and nothing, no fear or doubt would ever stop me again.
Making the day even sweeter, I saw the love of my life face light up every time I saw him along the way. Whose arms enclosed me at the end, holding me steady but allowing me to stand on my own knowing how much this race meant to me and how it was my moment to let go of all of the things I would no longer allow to stand in my way. I saw my amazing brother and sister-in-law come out from behind a small crowd of supporters at the halfway mark, cheering me on, taking my raincoat from me without hesitation as I quickly tossed it over the fencing before turning around to run back, who returned to the finish to hug me and tell me how proud they were when I came across.
Completing 13.1 miles -- It may sound simple to some, who have been athletes or runners their whole lives. It may sound simple to some who have never let fear stop them from doing something they have always wanted to do. It may sound simple to some who did not spend years in pain, who could not bend and unbend their legs without wincing at the feeling piercing through their whole legs when they did this. But for me -- for someone who had never considered themselves an athlete or a runner, for someone who had let fear rule their world for far too long, who 2-years prior was crying in a medical office with very little hope left -- this was my moment. This moment would define the next 35-years of my life. This moment where I would choose courage over fear, choose belief over doubt, choose challenge over comfort. For me, these dualities will always exist side by side. Fear will always be a part of my life, doubt too. Even moments will exist where I will find myself wanting to shrink into the background over facing anything ahead of me. But the thing is, I had a choice on October 20, 2018 to face those doubts and fears and chose courage and belief instead, and I have a choice today and every day from here on out. I will allow myself to feel the fear but I will choose courage. I will recognize the doubt when it creeps in, but I will choose belief. I will notice when I am feeling like I'd rather be comfortable then face what lies before me, but I will choose the challenge instead. Not to say this is an easy or straight forward process. Even today, it takes some time to make the choice. But I will make these choices because in those moments between holding myself back and going for it, is this beautiful moment of clarity so crystal clear that it feels like no fear or doubt will ever hold be back again. That feeling envelops me completely from head to toe, from my heart to brain, leaving me simply at peace. This is something I plan to feel and believe in for next 35 years of my life. 13.1 miles changed my life so deeply and so thoroughly there is no going back to where I was before I crossed that finish line. 13.1 miles changed my life. 13.1 miles changed my life.....