How lovely and fortunate am I to be sitting on my porch at 8:00 p.m. outside, sans shoes or socks, listening to the water to my right and the street to my left.
Tonight I sit with a sense of calm. Since the race, a short two days, I’ve had the ability to choose what I want to do, when I want to do it. Once I committed to the run, it somehow took over my thoughts and existence. Scheduling in training time and sacrificing plans in order to meet the demands I set upon myself somehow wasn’t that much fun. In the mix and excitement of training for the race, I lost my passion and enthusiasm for running. What a hard pill to swallow.
Last night I went to yoga to zen out and clear my mind. I wanted to just melt into the floor and allow my body to just exist. Running is so physically strenuous and demanding that simply existing doesn’t happen with training. Now, this is part of what I love about running- it’s a challenge against myself. But, it’s also what I hate. Sometimes I just wanna be. And melt. And now, with the absence of a running schedule to follow, my life seems less controlled.
What it keeps coming back to is balance in life. Too much yoga, too much running, too much scheduling, and penciling in and I feel like I lose me. I lose my autonomy because I am suddenly controlled by expectations set to a timer in my cell phone of things to do and people to see.
Maybe I need to grow up and accept certain responsibilities, but I also want certain freedoms if I can maintain them. Last night as I laid in savasana, I disappeared in my brain to a far away place. The idea of getting out of savasana seemed like a cruel trick, just let me stay a little longer.
When you were born your parents may have made a little book with your name on it- this is most often true for the oldest child and generally fades out the more children there are per family. Sorry Sean. This book was probably adorable and adorably decorated in pastel images of zoo animals, or Winnie the Pooh, or some other cutesy baby stuff. With every thing you did your parents would jot down in excitement – Ashley’s first word – gaga. We have a diva on our hands. That’s how I feel about this blog. Pastel colors and all. This is my book of milestones.
In this blog I have documented countless hours of my life. I have posted pictures of my dirty gym clothes, glorious sunsets, my friends, and my family. In my first blog post I confessed to crying on a boardwalk by myself after finishing my first run, overcome with emotion- this is my life now. I documented in fear my first 5k and I questioned if I would be able to do it and I was truly concerned that maybe I could not. I wrote about my first 4 mile run. My first 5 mile run. Now I’m going to tell you I did it again yesterday- my second time in a row doing five miles. And maybe I will look back on this post and I will laugh at these milestones, but we definitely don’t laugh at a baby’s first time lifting their head, or sitting up, or crawling, and standing up, to walking, to running, to holy crap we need to lock everything up in this house. We all start somewhere. I started as a fatigued, sick, swollen, depressed 25 year old trying to figure out what my next step was- Do I continue living like this or do I make the necessary changes to live a healthy life?
My path to rediscovery began in May. Today I officially registered for my first half marathon.
What I didn’t realize when I first agreed to this race was that it was one year from the point that I turned my life around. Words cannot express how meaningful this race is to me. And just like my first 5k, I have that apprehensive and terrified feeling, but now I feel empowered with the knowledge that I have set my mind towards many obstacles this year and I accomplished goals that I didn’t know I even had for myself.
In May of 2013 I struggled to walk, in May of 2014 I will run a half marathon.