Sunday, September 1, 2019

Perfect

Made a wrong turn, once or twice,
Dug my way out, blood and fire, 
Bad decisions, that's alright
Welcome to my silly life
-Pink                                                               

Yep, that's what I would be doing today.  Digging my way out of what feels like a bad decision, which may in fact, involve blood.  I was marathon training, 13.75 miles on tap today.  Further than a half marathon, yet among my fellow marathoners preparing for our races, we are calling it "a training run" like this is no biggie.  For me?  The glory of the marathon sounded amazing.  I did the sister half marathon to my upcoming race back in April.  Do the half in April and the full in October and you get a special medal.  Ugh... my propensity for bling has once again gotten me in trouble.  Now I am saddled with long training runs that some days are not as easy as others. In fact, the only way I do these things is to make a promise to my marathon training group as well as my personal accountability partner, as I am much less likely to let them down.  Left to my own devices, this may not be the case.   As I went to leave the house, I found myself annoyed with said personal accountability partner, freaking 13.75 miles, clearly this was his fault.  

As I went to leave for the trail, I passed through the family room to the door, the kids were watching some action movie and I found myself saying what I always do,"turn it down, that thing is screaming." Which, in my state at the time, probably came out a little harsher than I intended.  But seriously, why is it in recent years movie makers have found a way to make the dramatic sections of the movie so much louder?  I find I have to watch movies, remote in hand, ready to turn it down for these parts so my ears don't bleed  The whole thing is just annoying.

I would hit the trail at Lock 7 for my run along the Mohawk.  The weather was cool for a change, which was a bonus, but I was still dreading my run. I thought about the group I belong to known as "Fall Marathon Training Group."  The group was formed by a friend when we realized there were quite a few of us training for fall races.  This predominantly female group has helped me to remain accountable but I can't help to be jealous of these seasoned runners.  They are all so much faster than me, and they seem to make these training runs look so much easier.   I suppose it is my history of lifelong obesity, which meant I was last to be picked in gym class, counted out and bullied, that had my brain ruminating over my own inadequacy as an athlete.  Probably not the greatest time for this internal diatribe of negativity while I was at mile one, but yet, here it was.  However, as music often does, at mile two Pink had a lot to say to me.

You're so mean, when you talk, about yourself you were wrong,
Change the voices in your head, make them like you instead,
So complicated, look how big, you'll make it,
Filled with so much hatred, such a tired game,
It's enough! 

It dawned on me in that moment, it's quite possible I was wrong.   I do tend to spend much of my time letting the loudest voices be the negative ones.  The ones that remind me I don't measure up, or the gentle grieving thoughts for relationships that have significantly changed during my four and a half year journey to health and wellness.  Pink was right.  It was time to put this to bed, and focus on a solid run to the best of my own abilities.  I would get through the 13.75 miles that my training app called for, and add another quarter for a nice round 14.  Why?  Because I could.  My paces were pretty even, I was sore and tired, but I did it.  



The whole world's scared, so I swallow the fear,
The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer,

When I finished, there were messages waiting in my private group chat with select members of my tribe asking how I did.  I shared my run there and was met with cheers and congratulations.  Then,  as we do, among our Fall Marathon Motivational group, I posted my run before I even got in the car.  I immediately had the greatest comments from all of the marathoners I admire so much.  Here I was jealous and feeling inadequate when each and every one of them are firmly in my corner, cheering me on.  My paces did not matter.  This was not a competition.  Rather, a celebration of all of our successes.   My accountability partner, who I was way less annoyed with at that point, would send congrats as well and shut down comments where I tried to downplay the parts of my run that maybe were less than perfect.  Fourteen miles.  'Nuff said.  

Oh pretty pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel,,
Like you're less than f**kin' perfect,
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing,
You're f**kin' perfect to me!

As I write this I am thinking more about the volume problem of modern day movies, and I found myself asking, when does it get really loud?  When it gets good.  Maybe our job is is to have our own remote to dial back the negative and less interesting voices in our heads and lives, and crank that shit when it gets really good.  Maybe Hollywood had it right.  I ran 14 miles today, more than a half on a lazy Sunday September afternoon, a quarter mile further than I intended, and was celebrated with so much love and support.   That right there is a whole lot of perfect and should be cranked til my ears bleed.  I heard a phrase today about looking for the people in your life that pour into you.  I am so grateful to my tribe that shows up for me every single day to remind me I am nothing less than f**kin' perfect, just as I do for them.  After all, we are all in this together and the best is yet to come.  






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