A four day, “four for the fourth” progressive run over the 4th of July weekend. 5k, 10k, 10 miler, Half Marathon for a total of 32.4 miles in four days. The clothes, the shoes, the routes, the time frames, every possible detail had been studied, mulled over, and strategically planned.
Needless to say, it did not go quite how I had planned, or surely how I had hoped.
I had a great 5k race on Wednesday, and a strong 10k race on Thursday. I went into Friday’s 10 mile race nervous (double digit distances really intimidate me) and I had my typical pre-race anxiety, telling myself over and over that it’s not about the pace and to just go out and do it, push hard, and just do the best that I can. I have to give myself lot of pep talks for my longer runs; training and especially race day ones.
All along this year I have struggled with my pace and my “expectations” of what I want that pace to be. I will always speak the words that my pace doesn’t matter to me. I think it’s my way of trying to convince myself it actually doesn’t… but if I’m totally honest, I am forever chasing a pace in my mind, a very specific pace for a very specific distance… and the honest reality is, is that is a pace I will probably never be able to achieve, accomplish, conquer. Black and white fact of the matter.
Last year I got really close… really close several times. I finished three half marathons last year right around 2:02. That pace I’m chasing… that dream I’m wanting… that goal I’m trying to conquer… I’ve come to believe is that I want to run a sub 2 hour half marathon. I didn’t quite make it last year, and thought surely… surely this year I would finally be able to break that barrier and succeed, with just a little more training and a few more miles. But you know what, I very very rarely mentioned this hope out loud. If you don’t ever utter the words that are in your mind into the world to hear, no one will ever know if you don’t ever succeed. Your failure can forever stay an inner demon of defeat, but at least it won’t be a public defeat for all to know. That is at least how the “simple logic” in my mind seems to work.
As I’ve continued to run and train this year, I have found I’m actually quite a bit slower than I was last year. My consistent and current pace, is not where it was last year, and nowhere close to where I wish it would be. But… I was still able to run, I was still healthy, and was still able to get myself up and get out there for the most part. I have been trying to give myself grace for my current pace and working on coming to grips with it all, and just attempting to enjoy each moment as it came, not as I was expecting it to. I also fully realized that the pace I was chasing and failing at, left me a pace that others would probably love to be able to do. I know I need to be careful in how talk down about myself around others, because the last thing my intent is, is to make anyone feel “less than.” I want to be everyones greatest supporter - I want to see everyone for who they are and where they are in the journey that they are currently in and encourage the heck out of you. If you’re out there doing something hard, anything hard, boom ~ you are a rockstar baby! Keep that hard shit up!
I was nervous (as usual) the night before the 10 Miler portion of the Half Challenge, and I was fervently watching the radar. It’s been a crazy summer of rain and storms this year, and that morning was looking a bit sketchy in terms of weather. I decided I would just go for it between two rain systems, which put me out just a tiny bit earlier than my usual.
And a tiny bit earlier also means a tiny bit darker. And a little bit darker than pre-dawn, is well… pitch black.
I admit, I am very intentional about the times I go out and run every day, especially at the lake. It’s very important to me to take the time to watch the sunrise, watch nature awaken, listening to it whisper its soft good mornings.
There’s something magical, something special about watching the darkness fade into vivid rays of color, about being an enveloped part of the wonder and awakening of God’s nature and glory.
Needless to say, it did not go quite how I had planned, or surely how I had hoped.
I had a great 5k race on Wednesday, and a strong 10k race on Thursday. I went into Friday’s 10 mile race nervous (double digit distances really intimidate me) and I had my typical pre-race anxiety, telling myself over and over that it’s not about the pace and to just go out and do it, push hard, and just do the best that I can. I have to give myself lot of pep talks for my longer runs; training and especially race day ones.
All along this year I have struggled with my pace and my “expectations” of what I want that pace to be. I will always speak the words that my pace doesn’t matter to me. I think it’s my way of trying to convince myself it actually doesn’t… but if I’m totally honest, I am forever chasing a pace in my mind, a very specific pace for a very specific distance… and the honest reality is, is that is a pace I will probably never be able to achieve, accomplish, conquer. Black and white fact of the matter.
Last year I got really close… really close several times. I finished three half marathons last year right around 2:02. That pace I’m chasing… that dream I’m wanting… that goal I’m trying to conquer… I’ve come to believe is that I want to run a sub 2 hour half marathon. I didn’t quite make it last year, and thought surely… surely this year I would finally be able to break that barrier and succeed, with just a little more training and a few more miles. But you know what, I very very rarely mentioned this hope out loud. If you don’t ever utter the words that are in your mind into the world to hear, no one will ever know if you don’t ever succeed. Your failure can forever stay an inner demon of defeat, but at least it won’t be a public defeat for all to know. That is at least how the “simple logic” in my mind seems to work.
As I’ve continued to run and train this year, I have found I’m actually quite a bit slower than I was last year. My consistent and current pace, is not where it was last year, and nowhere close to where I wish it would be. But… I was still able to run, I was still healthy, and was still able to get myself up and get out there for the most part. I have been trying to give myself grace for my current pace and working on coming to grips with it all, and just attempting to enjoy each moment as it came, not as I was expecting it to. I also fully realized that the pace I was chasing and failing at, left me a pace that others would probably love to be able to do. I know I need to be careful in how talk down about myself around others, because the last thing my intent is, is to make anyone feel “less than.” I want to be everyones greatest supporter - I want to see everyone for who they are and where they are in the journey that they are currently in and encourage the heck out of you. If you’re out there doing something hard, anything hard, boom ~ you are a rockstar baby! Keep that hard shit up!
I was nervous (as usual) the night before the 10 Miler portion of the Half Challenge, and I was fervently watching the radar. It’s been a crazy summer of rain and storms this year, and that morning was looking a bit sketchy in terms of weather. I decided I would just go for it between two rain systems, which put me out just a tiny bit earlier than my usual.
And a tiny bit earlier also means a tiny bit darker. And a little bit darker than pre-dawn, is well… pitch black.
I admit, I am very intentional about the times I go out and run every day, especially at the lake. It’s very important to me to take the time to watch the sunrise, watch nature awaken, listening to it whisper its soft good mornings.
There’s something magical, something special about watching the darkness fade into vivid rays of color, about being an enveloped part of the wonder and awakening of God’s nature and glory.
I found myself about a half mile in and I was already nervous and watching my pace on my wrist and waiting for my running app to update me. I was antsy, my anxiety and nerves were trying to hijack my mind and my muscles. I was trying to just breath deep, trying to slow the inner push, reign in the driving demons of unattainable expectation.
I began to pray (with my eyes open of course) and I just simply said the words “Lord, give me grace from the pace today… endurance for the distance… and grace from my pace…” It was words and a mantra amid my breathing and my moving to help slow me down, help calm me down, help settle in to a steadier pace for the long haul, and help keep me from thinking beyond the ten mile distance I was currently in.
I noticed movement to my right, and there was something running along the other side of the road. It was dark, but as I watched I was quite sure it was a skunk. I kept looking over and kept hoping it would just go down into the ditch already. I slowed down, trying to stay behind it, far from it. There was a small drive opening, and it suddenly slipped away out of sight.
Then, just a few steps later, still less than ten minutes to this ten mile run… I felt my right foot on top of something that moved or rolled or gave way beneath me… in a blur I jolted forward, in a stumbling attempt to regain my footing, and immediately and clearly knew… I was going down.
The utter disappointment in myself cut into my inner core before the asphalt even had a chance to mangle my outer flesh.
It was a back rural road that had just been re-black topped that same week. It was dark. I could still smell the tar and I saw myself falling forward, the rest a blur. After inertia had stopped and given its control back to me, I sat there absolutely dazed and confused. I stood up and had no idea what direction I was facing, I had no idea what was hurt or how badly I may have been injured. I sat back down attempting to regain my composure and access the situation.
I knew my ankle was twisted and I knew there was road rash and blood on my left side, especially my hands and shoulder. I messaged my friend that was out also running to support me over in Virginia… she immediately replied. I told her I had fallen, and I had no idea what to do.
Oh my gosh I was so disappointed as I stood there in that moment. Crushed, defeated. I knew going in that this race was going to be about distance, dedication, discipline, determination… but disappointment was not something I had trained for.
You don’t train to fall. You don’t train to deal with injury. You don’t train to not finish. You don’t train to fail.
Those thoughts and fears and what if’s of course are always there in the back of your mind, but you don’t ever actually go into a race expecting something like this to happen. Sure, it’s always a possibility, but at least for me, the second that race starts, the moment that clock starts officially timing… usually that fear turns into hope, into drive, into a straight vision line to simply finish.
The clock was still going… and I had no idea what to do. I finally slowly got up and started just putting one foot in front of the other in attempt to just get back. In the mile back I knew my ankle wasn’t good, I knew as soon as I took that shoe off it was going to balloon up like no other, and I knew I would never finish this race at a pace I would ever be proud to share. (Why?!? Why are we so ridiculously hard on ourselves like this?!?)
The sun was rising, the sky was now becoming an incredible view of beauty and I decided to just keep going… slow and steady. I reached mile three… then four. The sunrise was just breathtaking and I was able to take some fantastic photos. (I never allow myself to stop or slow down for anything, especially photos, during a timed race). Mile five… then six… I realized my running app was no longer giving me any updates (which it on rare occasions decides to do, ugh) and my bluetooth headphones were not keeping a consistent connection to my music (super annoying to me). The blood on my hands was running down my arms by now, the ankle was throbbing, the hips hurting because of my odd gait. The thought of not even being able to start the half marathon race the next morning was attempting to consume me, all while I was consciously trying to just focus on finishing the current ten miles I was in.
In time mile seven turned into mile eight. Mile nine left me with only one more mile to go… and then I was done. I had made it. I had made the distance anyway, I refused to even look at the time and pace, and I had no idea if I could personally really even count this as a “finish” or not.
Oh I was so damn disappointed in myself. Just crushed.
I officially logged everything and took some post race photos and began the process of accessing the damages. I took off the socks and shoes. I watched the ankle immediately swell and start to turn purple. I washed off the blood and tried to get out the asphalt lodged deep inside, and I saw entire pieces of skin missing.
I was so focused on all of these things, and would later realize I hadn’t even allowed myself to see the final distance that I had just finished. Ten miles. One frazzled initial mile and nine slow painful disappointing miles were all overlooked, overtaken, overshadowed by the disappointment I carried across that finish line because it didn’t go quite how I had planned it to go. I didn’t finish in a time I claimed to be personally acceptable for myself.
I had prayed for God to give me grace from the pace. I had prayed that God would just slow me down and simply give me the endurance for those ten miles. And well… He did. And for once He had decided to answer a prayer of mine nearly immediately. He also gave me the most gorgeous sunrise and the ability to allow myself to steal some picts of it.
My initial reaction was to not utter a word about this. I hadn’t shared much about this Half Challenge I was doing with many people (I was going to wait until day four when I was all done and knew I had conquered and completed the entire challenge before saying anything… you know… just in case I didn’t, or couldn’t, actually do it). Again, why do we do this to ourselves?!?
I did decide to post a little something about my disappointment, without a lot of detail, and found the response not at all what I was expecting. Inside I carried this heavy disappointment about it all, this failure mentality, this negative outlook… but many of the responses back weren’t of that mindset, they were of the accomplishment, the distance achieved, the obstacle overcome. My dear friends at the campground surrounded me with support and one of them, who is a coach, even came and taped me all up with some amazing KT support tape that he had (which I had never even heard of). I sat there while he wrapped and taped, while others watched, and I almost felt like a real athlete.
I spent most of the day laying in bed with an elevated and iced ankle. My brain didn’t know whether to try process this reality reasonably and rationally or just totally hijack the entire situation by overruling and overtaking every feasible shred of positivity and self worth.
I didn’t choose and train and go into this challenge for anyone other than myself. I did it to push myself, to mind-over-miles myself, to attempt something out of my comfort zone, something I didn’t feel natural at or at all gifted in, something that I intentional knew wasn’t going to be easy for me.
Night came and I honestly had no idea what I was going to do the next morning for the Half Marathon race. A part of me was ready to not do it and take the personal DNF and big fat failure checkmark. Part of me was wanting to at least go and try, gosh darnit I had put all of this time and training in. But I didn’t want to injury myself worse, and I didn’t know if not trying at all was going to be a worse failure than trying and not being able to finish.
Yea.. this is the crap that my mind battles and deals with all the time. I have no idea why I have been “gifted” with this thing called a “perfectionism complex,” but it’s something real that I have battled all my life, and I know I will continue battle forever until I die. It’s who I am, it’s how I am. It’s what makes me the best that I am and also makes me the worst that I am. It’s my hot and cold, my blessing and curse all at once. (It’s also what requires me to be on prozac, lol)
As I laid there I got a message from a fellow runner friend. It included the words “I think you’ll be able to do it.” And then I pulled up another gal to message, who recently ran a full marathon with a stress fracture in her foot. She went in injured, she still ran it, she still gave it everything she had in her, and I cheered her on every single step she took. I had prayed God grant her the strength to cross the finish line from half a continent away, and she did! I was going to message her and get her thoughts… and then stopped. I already knew what she was going to say - “You gotta at least try it.” That is exactly what she had done, what she had shown the world just weeks earlier.
I set out the final #flatsara outfit and took the photo. I refused to let myself post it in the race group like I had the other three pre-race #flatsaras. I said nothing. I posted nothing. I went to bed hoping to get up and attempt it, but also knowing if the pain was too great, I would have to refuse to let myself try because I could not let myself injure myself any more.
The alarm went off and I got up. The ankle felt surprisingly better than it looked. I said nothing. I dressed, I put in the old corded headphones, I strapped on the garmin watch, I opened the Gu and got it down, I pinned on the race bib. I opened the door, I took a deep breath, and I went outside.
It was a slow start, but that sunrise yet again did not disappoint. The weather was a humid cool (it’s Minnesota people -it’s a real thing, sorry) and quite breezy. I required myself to keep a slow but steady pace… thirteen miles is a long-ass distance on a completely healthy set of legs to complete…
It was a beautiful morning, and it was an extremely long and hard fought morning. Those miles were not easy, my time was nowhere near what I had trained and hoped for. But I remained determined and continued on. Then I heard the ding of a message, and then another, and realized I had forgotten to turn my phone notifications off. (Another timed race requirement.) I allowed myself to unlock my phone and look at it (which I also never allow myself to do during a timed race). Three people had messaged me to keep going, telling me I could do it and just seeing how it was going… It was what I needed to help keep me going.
We’re all full speed ahead to the next bigger, better, latest, greatest. We’re all in dire need of just slowing down, allowing ourselves the grace from life’s crazy pace. Lord knows I don’t have the answers to any of this, but I can tell you first hand that I think we need to try listen closer to that little whisper to slow down, to let go and let God… We aren’t in control, we don’t get to call all the shots, and if we don’t answer on our own, He just might grant it to us anyway, and not in a way we are going to probably be happy with.
Once upon a time I was full speed ahead and God granted me the “gift” of sickness and loss. I was forced to slow down, forced to stop, to hurt, and then to figure out how to heal, to mend, to somehow move forward again. And in that healing and mending, I found this crazy thing called running… which would, four and half years later bring me to the same (but different) spot of being granted the “gift” of injury and recovery.
These surely have not felt like “gifts” by any means in the moment, but in the short forty-four years of my life thus far, I have come to know that I need to somehow trust the journey, trust the plans God has planned for our lives, and trust the outcome… come what may.
Yea yea, easy peasy words to say I know, living in their reality is a whole different story.
Life is not easy, life is not guaranteed, and life never quite seems to go as planned. I find it a little bit odd that I keep being surprised over and over by this basic concept. Every time I am faced with a disappointment, a hurt, a trial, a hardship, I seem initially surprised that I’m not actually the one in control. And yet in time, in processing, in laying it at the foot of the cross… deep inside I know it’s all part of the plan, the journey, the process… we just need to look at it through the clearer lens of learning vs the cracked blurred lens of failure. Again yes, easier said than done. But maybe we need to continue to say it, in order to see it, in order to attempt to practice it.
So what’s my takeaway from all this you ask? Don’t run in the dark.
I began to pray (with my eyes open of course) and I just simply said the words “Lord, give me grace from the pace today… endurance for the distance… and grace from my pace…” It was words and a mantra amid my breathing and my moving to help slow me down, help calm me down, help settle in to a steadier pace for the long haul, and help keep me from thinking beyond the ten mile distance I was currently in.
I noticed movement to my right, and there was something running along the other side of the road. It was dark, but as I watched I was quite sure it was a skunk. I kept looking over and kept hoping it would just go down into the ditch already. I slowed down, trying to stay behind it, far from it. There was a small drive opening, and it suddenly slipped away out of sight.
Then, just a few steps later, still less than ten minutes to this ten mile run… I felt my right foot on top of something that moved or rolled or gave way beneath me… in a blur I jolted forward, in a stumbling attempt to regain my footing, and immediately and clearly knew… I was going down.
The utter disappointment in myself cut into my inner core before the asphalt even had a chance to mangle my outer flesh.
It was a back rural road that had just been re-black topped that same week. It was dark. I could still smell the tar and I saw myself falling forward, the rest a blur. After inertia had stopped and given its control back to me, I sat there absolutely dazed and confused. I stood up and had no idea what direction I was facing, I had no idea what was hurt or how badly I may have been injured. I sat back down attempting to regain my composure and access the situation.
I knew my ankle was twisted and I knew there was road rash and blood on my left side, especially my hands and shoulder. I messaged my friend that was out also running to support me over in Virginia… she immediately replied. I told her I had fallen, and I had no idea what to do.
Oh my gosh I was so disappointed as I stood there in that moment. Crushed, defeated. I knew going in that this race was going to be about distance, dedication, discipline, determination… but disappointment was not something I had trained for.
You don’t train to fall. You don’t train to deal with injury. You don’t train to not finish. You don’t train to fail.
Those thoughts and fears and what if’s of course are always there in the back of your mind, but you don’t ever actually go into a race expecting something like this to happen. Sure, it’s always a possibility, but at least for me, the second that race starts, the moment that clock starts officially timing… usually that fear turns into hope, into drive, into a straight vision line to simply finish.
The clock was still going… and I had no idea what to do. I finally slowly got up and started just putting one foot in front of the other in attempt to just get back. In the mile back I knew my ankle wasn’t good, I knew as soon as I took that shoe off it was going to balloon up like no other, and I knew I would never finish this race at a pace I would ever be proud to share. (Why?!? Why are we so ridiculously hard on ourselves like this?!?)
The sun was rising, the sky was now becoming an incredible view of beauty and I decided to just keep going… slow and steady. I reached mile three… then four. The sunrise was just breathtaking and I was able to take some fantastic photos. (I never allow myself to stop or slow down for anything, especially photos, during a timed race). Mile five… then six… I realized my running app was no longer giving me any updates (which it on rare occasions decides to do, ugh) and my bluetooth headphones were not keeping a consistent connection to my music (super annoying to me). The blood on my hands was running down my arms by now, the ankle was throbbing, the hips hurting because of my odd gait. The thought of not even being able to start the half marathon race the next morning was attempting to consume me, all while I was consciously trying to just focus on finishing the current ten miles I was in.
In time mile seven turned into mile eight. Mile nine left me with only one more mile to go… and then I was done. I had made it. I had made the distance anyway, I refused to even look at the time and pace, and I had no idea if I could personally really even count this as a “finish” or not.
Oh I was so damn disappointed in myself. Just crushed.
I officially logged everything and took some post race photos and began the process of accessing the damages. I took off the socks and shoes. I watched the ankle immediately swell and start to turn purple. I washed off the blood and tried to get out the asphalt lodged deep inside, and I saw entire pieces of skin missing.
I was so focused on all of these things, and would later realize I hadn’t even allowed myself to see the final distance that I had just finished. Ten miles. One frazzled initial mile and nine slow painful disappointing miles were all overlooked, overtaken, overshadowed by the disappointment I carried across that finish line because it didn’t go quite how I had planned it to go. I didn’t finish in a time I claimed to be personally acceptable for myself.
I had prayed for God to give me grace from the pace. I had prayed that God would just slow me down and simply give me the endurance for those ten miles. And well… He did. And for once He had decided to answer a prayer of mine nearly immediately. He also gave me the most gorgeous sunrise and the ability to allow myself to steal some picts of it.
My initial reaction was to not utter a word about this. I hadn’t shared much about this Half Challenge I was doing with many people (I was going to wait until day four when I was all done and knew I had conquered and completed the entire challenge before saying anything… you know… just in case I didn’t, or couldn’t, actually do it). Again, why do we do this to ourselves?!?
I did decide to post a little something about my disappointment, without a lot of detail, and found the response not at all what I was expecting. Inside I carried this heavy disappointment about it all, this failure mentality, this negative outlook… but many of the responses back weren’t of that mindset, they were of the accomplishment, the distance achieved, the obstacle overcome. My dear friends at the campground surrounded me with support and one of them, who is a coach, even came and taped me all up with some amazing KT support tape that he had (which I had never even heard of). I sat there while he wrapped and taped, while others watched, and I almost felt like a real athlete.
I spent most of the day laying in bed with an elevated and iced ankle. My brain didn’t know whether to try process this reality reasonably and rationally or just totally hijack the entire situation by overruling and overtaking every feasible shred of positivity and self worth.
I didn’t choose and train and go into this challenge for anyone other than myself. I did it to push myself, to mind-over-miles myself, to attempt something out of my comfort zone, something I didn’t feel natural at or at all gifted in, something that I intentional knew wasn’t going to be easy for me.
Night came and I honestly had no idea what I was going to do the next morning for the Half Marathon race. A part of me was ready to not do it and take the personal DNF and big fat failure checkmark. Part of me was wanting to at least go and try, gosh darnit I had put all of this time and training in. But I didn’t want to injury myself worse, and I didn’t know if not trying at all was going to be a worse failure than trying and not being able to finish.
Yea.. this is the crap that my mind battles and deals with all the time. I have no idea why I have been “gifted” with this thing called a “perfectionism complex,” but it’s something real that I have battled all my life, and I know I will continue battle forever until I die. It’s who I am, it’s how I am. It’s what makes me the best that I am and also makes me the worst that I am. It’s my hot and cold, my blessing and curse all at once. (It’s also what requires me to be on prozac, lol)
As I laid there I got a message from a fellow runner friend. It included the words “I think you’ll be able to do it.” And then I pulled up another gal to message, who recently ran a full marathon with a stress fracture in her foot. She went in injured, she still ran it, she still gave it everything she had in her, and I cheered her on every single step she took. I had prayed God grant her the strength to cross the finish line from half a continent away, and she did! I was going to message her and get her thoughts… and then stopped. I already knew what she was going to say - “You gotta at least try it.” That is exactly what she had done, what she had shown the world just weeks earlier.
I set out the final #flatsara outfit and took the photo. I refused to let myself post it in the race group like I had the other three pre-race #flatsaras. I said nothing. I posted nothing. I went to bed hoping to get up and attempt it, but also knowing if the pain was too great, I would have to refuse to let myself try because I could not let myself injure myself any more.
The alarm went off and I got up. The ankle felt surprisingly better than it looked. I said nothing. I dressed, I put in the old corded headphones, I strapped on the garmin watch, I opened the Gu and got it down, I pinned on the race bib. I opened the door, I took a deep breath, and I went outside.
It was a slow start, but that sunrise yet again did not disappoint. The weather was a humid cool (it’s Minnesota people -it’s a real thing, sorry) and quite breezy. I required myself to keep a slow but steady pace… thirteen miles is a long-ass distance on a completely healthy set of legs to complete…
It was a beautiful morning, and it was an extremely long and hard fought morning. Those miles were not easy, my time was nowhere near what I had trained and hoped for. But I remained determined and continued on. Then I heard the ding of a message, and then another, and realized I had forgotten to turn my phone notifications off. (Another timed race requirement.) I allowed myself to unlock my phone and look at it (which I also never allow myself to do during a timed race). Three people had messaged me to keep going, telling me I could do it and just seeing how it was going… It was what I needed to help keep me going.
Mile after mile. Hour after hour. When I hit mile ten I allowed myself to push the pace just a little tiny bit more. Same with mile eleven, pushed just a little harder. I reached mile twelve and knew I had one point one miles left. One point one miles. My typical sub two hour pace mindset, was now in a full on sub three hour push, it was time to dig in even deeper.
I made it to mile thirteen point one, and I made there in just under a sub three hour time, and I have to honestly say when I finally finished, it was the same feeling as what I’m assuming a sub two hour finish would be. Oh Lord I was ecstatic, I was DONE. I had made the entire distance, I had completed the challenge. It was the longest half marathon I have completed time wise, and it was the hardest marathon I have ever completed determination wise.
Yes, I carried a huge disappointment that overall it had not gone as I had planned, but I also did feel a huge accomplishment in merely getting up, attempting it, and actually completing it.
I know without a doubt God is in this to teach me to listen, to slow down, to honestly open my hands and release that pace and perfection expectation I cannot seem to let go of. He’s wanting me to stop looking so intently forward, to stop following and comparing myself to those amazing paces and distances and toned bodies all over the social media feeds. I’m always so busy looking ahead, looking at where I think I could be, or want to be, or should be, that I rarely allow myself to stop and look at the me in the right here and the right now. To see the actual me that God created me to be, in the body God gave me, and be ok with it.
I made it to mile thirteen point one, and I made there in just under a sub three hour time, and I have to honestly say when I finally finished, it was the same feeling as what I’m assuming a sub two hour finish would be. Oh Lord I was ecstatic, I was DONE. I had made the entire distance, I had completed the challenge. It was the longest half marathon I have completed time wise, and it was the hardest marathon I have ever completed determination wise.
Yes, I carried a huge disappointment that overall it had not gone as I had planned, but I also did feel a huge accomplishment in merely getting up, attempting it, and actually completing it.
I know without a doubt God is in this to teach me to listen, to slow down, to honestly open my hands and release that pace and perfection expectation I cannot seem to let go of. He’s wanting me to stop looking so intently forward, to stop following and comparing myself to those amazing paces and distances and toned bodies all over the social media feeds. I’m always so busy looking ahead, looking at where I think I could be, or want to be, or should be, that I rarely allow myself to stop and look at the me in the right here and the right now. To see the actual me that God created me to be, in the body God gave me, and be ok with it.
I have a long road of healing and recovery in front of me, and slow is hard for me. Rest is really hard for me. This is going to be a hard journey, and I have to realize that that half might have been my last half marathon. At this point I honestly don’t know, but I’m quite certain that God’s answer to my “healing prayers” are going to be much slower coming than his initial answer to my “slowing down via immediate injury” prayer.
There are so many others out there just like me… looking ahead to what they think and hope and wish for, while rarely allowing to fully see themselves as the gift and beauty that they already are. We’re all at different paces and different journeys and races in our lives. We’re all dealing with different dreams and hopes and goals and setbacks and disappointments.
We’re all impatient and dreaming big.
There are so many others out there just like me… looking ahead to what they think and hope and wish for, while rarely allowing to fully see themselves as the gift and beauty that they already are. We’re all at different paces and different journeys and races in our lives. We’re all dealing with different dreams and hopes and goals and setbacks and disappointments.
We’re all impatient and dreaming big.
We’re all full speed ahead to the next bigger, better, latest, greatest. We’re all in dire need of just slowing down, allowing ourselves the grace from life’s crazy pace. Lord knows I don’t have the answers to any of this, but I can tell you first hand that I think we need to try listen closer to that little whisper to slow down, to let go and let God… We aren’t in control, we don’t get to call all the shots, and if we don’t answer on our own, He just might grant it to us anyway, and not in a way we are going to probably be happy with.
Once upon a time I was full speed ahead and God granted me the “gift” of sickness and loss. I was forced to slow down, forced to stop, to hurt, and then to figure out how to heal, to mend, to somehow move forward again. And in that healing and mending, I found this crazy thing called running… which would, four and half years later bring me to the same (but different) spot of being granted the “gift” of injury and recovery.
These surely have not felt like “gifts” by any means in the moment, but in the short forty-four years of my life thus far, I have come to know that I need to somehow trust the journey, trust the plans God has planned for our lives, and trust the outcome… come what may.
Yea yea, easy peasy words to say I know, living in their reality is a whole different story.
Life is not easy, life is not guaranteed, and life never quite seems to go as planned. I find it a little bit odd that I keep being surprised over and over by this basic concept. Every time I am faced with a disappointment, a hurt, a trial, a hardship, I seem initially surprised that I’m not actually the one in control. And yet in time, in processing, in laying it at the foot of the cross… deep inside I know it’s all part of the plan, the journey, the process… we just need to look at it through the clearer lens of learning vs the cracked blurred lens of failure. Again yes, easier said than done. But maybe we need to continue to say it, in order to see it, in order to attempt to practice it.
So what’s my takeaway from all this you ask? Don’t run in the dark.
HaHaHa! No, seriously. lol.
Ok yes, “do not run in the dark” is the black and white, night and day (pun there, get it?!?!) lesson learned, but in all the shades of grey, in all the vibrant hues in the sunrise between dark and dawn, there are so many things to glean here, top of which is merely taking the time to slow down, to see myself as I am, and to stop comparing. These are hard things for me, hard painful things. And apparently it’s taking some hard painful consequences to help me slow down, help me see myself not as such a failure, and stop comparing myself to all those I perceive as greater and better and faster than me.
We need to love ourselves for who we are, I know it’s not easy, and I know I don’t do it well at all. But maybe if we all try loving ourselves just a tiny bit better, and comparing ourselves just a tiny bit less, we’ll all be able to simply slow down just a tiny bit more and live life just a tiny bit more fully.
Ok yes, “do not run in the dark” is the black and white, night and day (pun there, get it?!?!) lesson learned, but in all the shades of grey, in all the vibrant hues in the sunrise between dark and dawn, there are so many things to glean here, top of which is merely taking the time to slow down, to see myself as I am, and to stop comparing. These are hard things for me, hard painful things. And apparently it’s taking some hard painful consequences to help me slow down, help me see myself not as such a failure, and stop comparing myself to all those I perceive as greater and better and faster than me.
We need to love ourselves for who we are, I know it’s not easy, and I know I don’t do it well at all. But maybe if we all try loving ourselves just a tiny bit better, and comparing ourselves just a tiny bit less, we’ll all be able to simply slow down just a tiny bit more and live life just a tiny bit more fully.
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