Quick Like Bunny

At the Toronto half I learned three valuable things. One, and I am red-faced and stumbling to admit I actually need to say this but…take care of your feet. Two, this girl sells herself short at every opportunity. Last and most important, my husband is my rock, my knight, the cornerstone to my castle. I would be nothing without him. Not-a-thing.
Let’s start with the lack of confidence; the inability to trust myself because I simply can’t talk about point #1. I already talked about it and it’s too embarrassing to go over again. So. The selling me & moi short. Just to illustrate my point let me go way back. In high school, junior year, we had to go on this ridiculous Outward Bound experience. Eight days in the snowy woods of Maine in the middle of February. Wilderness survival with a bunch of spoiled teenagers. You couldn’t graduate unless you went through this “adventure”. It was designed to develop leadership skills for the upcoming senior year. Yeah, right. Whatever. I was all of 95lbs and shy as a quaking wallflower. I wouldn’t speak up when my pack was too heavy. If I wore it properly the straps made my arms fall asleep. I had to hold it up over my head half the time. I wouldn’t say boo when my snowshoes kept falling off. I didn’t understand the bindings so I kept stopping, falling behind. I wouldn’t tell anyone when I was sick as a dog with the runs on the penultimate night. While I didn’t complain I didn’t exude happiness either. Hell, I didn’t say much to anyone. My team leader (a man by the name of Savage, ironically enough), had the eight of us sit around the campfire on the last night. We were supposed to give the person to our right a hypothetical gift; something that would guide the recipient through adulthood. Guess who was sitting on my left? Savage gave me the gift of confidence because I didn’t believe I could do half the things I accomplished. He would watch me disbelieve and then do. But, even after the doing I was doubtful. It was if someone else had done the deed and I falsely took the credit. They were my accomplishments and yet I wanted someone else to own them. Years later, I have never forgotten Savage’s words, but I’ve barely used his gift. I am still my own worst enemy. Such was the case at the Toronto half. After the porta-potty fiasco (a blog for another time) I kicked up the pace. I wanted to catch my race rabbit. Not only did I catch up to her but I felt good enough to pass her. I came in six minutes ahead of my goal. I wanted 2:30 and I earned 2:24. Eight minute miles to the finish line. But. But! But, here’s the thing: From the very beginning I didn’t trust my endurance. I played the first two hours of the race kid-glove safe. I thought 2:30 would be a good finishing time for someone nine years gone from the running scene. I thought health-wise I needed to be cautious, too. I don’t regret Toronto. I finished better than expected. I have moved beyond the words “I just want to finish”. I hope that I remember this lesson and learn to trust myself. It’s okay to push a a little harder.

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Categories: Confessional, running | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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