Pain is Temporary

The other day I was training at a local obstacle gym and was struggling to get my hand over the top of a wall that I could in fact reach the top of but couldn’t seem to secure my grip and hang on.  I watched someone slightly taller than me tackle it with no problem.  I also watched someone significantly smaller than me jump right up there and grab it, no issue.  But there I was, over and over and over again, grazing my fingers across the top and not able to fully grab it. 

I blamed my vertical jump which has always plagued me, but immediately had to throw that out because you could see my hand from the other side.  Then I blamed my grip which I have been working on diligently, assuming my hands were just tired from the ring work I had already.  Regardless of potential hand fatigue, I wasn’t allowing myself to leave that day without figuring that shit out because at my last race I remained stumped at a tall wall with a similar object that I couldn’t reach the rock holds to get myself all of the way up and over, (I could actually touch the holds; I just couldn’t grab them and stay grabbed), and with twice the number of obstacles next weekend and solo, I was determined to do this for myself.

The reality of this situation though?  Hand weakness or fatigue and vertical challenge aside, is that it fucking hurt when I tried to grab the top of the wall.  It hurt like a bitch – my hands were tender and upon feeling the pain they immediately resisted grabbing the hard and square edges that required grabbing in order to succeed.  Thus, the narrative entered my mind: I’m weak.  I’m weaker.  My hands are tender.  I’m more tender and pussy-footed than my counterparts, obviously.  I’m just not tough enough to handle this and … the translation to real life is evident.  I am different and somehow that makes me unworthy and not enough.

But instead of staying trapped in my own mind, I decided to announce to the resident pro and true badass of an obstacle course racer that inspires anyone that knows her, that it fucking hurt when I tried to grab the top of the wall.  And you know what she said, despite my expectation that she was going to deny my sensation?  “Yeah it hurts!”  WHAT?  It hurts you too, you immortal athlete superhero woman?  WHAT?  You feel the same sensation that I do?  WHAT?  You are acknowledging me right now in my vulnerability and fear?  “For like 3 seconds!  And then you just get over it.”

Oh, my, God.  And just like that, I jumped up and securely grabbed the wall and pulled myself up and over it.  Instantly.  As if the pain in my hand didn’t register anymore and didn’t matter.  As if the idea that I was somehow different than the people around me wasn’t true, and I just needed some assurance that I belonged.  As if the countless times that I felt alone and isolated and afraid were only the times that I didn’t take a moment to open my mouth, pick up the phone, send a text or share it. 

And it occurred to me in that moment, that none of us are ever alone, and the pain that we think we are going to feel is only temporary, even in all of its fullness.  Nothing in this life lasts forever – be it mental, physical, emotional, or spiritual.  And I forgot.  I had succumbed, and realize that when I am the most afraid, overwhelmed, underslept and fried – I forget.  I start to think I am alone, that the pain is too much, and that I can’t handle what ever it is that is coming my way or already here.  It makes me think small, attached, and personally.

And all of this came from going to the local obstacle gym one morning in final preparation for Tahoe.  Who knew I needed an overhauling mentally to get right sized?  Who knew that the shit in my head wasn’t telling the entire truth, and that it rarely does?  Who knew that I just needed someone (again) to acknowledge me and my feelings and my ability to do things, and that I am not any different from my fellows?

Apparently, the Universe did.  Have you asked recently?