So there once was a time when I was in college that I was running close to campus, it was a cloudy, drizzly afternoon and the comment, "Unhitch the trailor" came from a car filled with high school boys. I remember wearing black wind pants with another layer underneath it, a baggy jacket of some sort, and pluggin' up the hill. This was probably about 10 years ago, in 2000. In those years, I was probably about 12-15 lbs heavier than now and running was a chance to leave things on the road. It was an escape from whatever issues at the time, my justification to splurge on dinner later, a therapy session, a chance to be alone, and the start of a routine that seems to have become healthy habit.
"Unhitch the trailor?" So did those boys mean I was going so slow that they thought I was carrying a trailor behind me? So they didn't think I knew the exact pace I was slapping my feet down on the pavement that they needed to remind me and then squeal off? I could chalk it up to some immature, disrespectful high schoolers that didn't know the power of their words. Well, this morning, I remembered their comment. It was a morning that looked similar to the cloudy one ten years ago, and I asked myself would they say that same thing? Eight marathons later, a Boston marathon finisher, a PB of an average mile of 8:20 for 26.2, doesn't feel like their could be a trailor behind this girl. But even with those things under my running belt, I am still haunted by the power of those words and the feelings of inadequacy.
Is it because lately when I run I feel my stomach that used to be flat, jiggle under my tank top? Is it because when I look down at my legs I feel like I can see the hail damage starting above my knees? Is it that I know I have missed a few days of running and know I haven't eaten in moderation, but justified splurging more days than I should have. Has it been the words of my own head that have caused the most damage, the lies I have started to believe, or the assumptions I have made on my husband's thoughts about my sedentary ways.
I haven't been in training since early March and I am realizing I need something on the calendar. I don't know to believe if it's a crutch, because I realize I don't do well without a plan. So...
I plan on unhitching the trailor, by signing up for the Turtleman Triathlon. It's August 14th. I am hoping this will be a bigger challenge than the the challenge right now to "get out of my parking spot".
- The name of this blog was inspired by Kristin Armstrong's devotional book, Strength for the Climb. I am a midwest girl married to a handsome, hardworking, God-fearing man and the mother of two boys. My eldest son, a social butterfly that has enough energy and excitement to make anyone tired and a personality that will make you giggle with laughter. My youngest son, can cuddle like no other, and his eyes will speak right to your soul. Both of my sons have taught me more about God's grace and goodness. We are blessed to have an extra chromosome in our family as our sweet Jack was diagnosed at birth with Down syndrome. With that, I am reminded daily to trust and rely on God's perfect plan on this journey called life. I am a child of God and grateful to my Heavenly Father for His continued blessings, guidance, wisdom, and most importantly for saving my soul.
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