I ran my programmed 52 miles last week, and it was a lot.
I was tired. And I was miserable. And I lost my joy.
I didn’t lose it because I ran 52 miles. And I didn’t lose it that week.
And why I lost it is not my fault. I started riding horses as a little girl and was as positively possessed and obsessed as one could be. I devoted my entire world to those creatures; whom I now pretend I know nothing about and talk about as infrequently as possible. I had my first pony at age 10, second by 11, and never looked back until I was ground to a pulp of stress and erosion at roughly 27. I went from the leadline at 3, to competing nationally and internationally by 12 and teaching riding lessons by 16. I went from weekend horse shows to my own 75 acre leased farm, 25 horses and more than double that number of students.
You could observe that my “all or nothing” behavior is addict mentality, but I could also argue that I found something that lit my soul on fire and made me feel whole and so I pursued that connection until it was no longer right for me to pursue. I don’t regret that devotion – it spared me a lot of potential heartache and trauma, much of which I exposed myself to anyway with drugs and alcohol as a teenager. The horses gave me purpose during my bulimic years that if I hadn’t had, I may not have made it through that time and recovered to the point of being willing to be open about it. Had I not scoured the Earth for every plausible opportunity to stay with it, I may still wonder if leaving the horse world was right for me, but I think we can all say that it was. My life as it is now is all of the evidence I need.
I think I’ve struggled just moving or having fun with fitness and picking team sports or partaking in things that don’t take up all of my time because I was oriented toward sport being a solo discipline as a kid and taught myself to do things “right” and with focused attention, always with a competition or a goal in mind.
Until now. There is never a coincidence in how things align, as my experience has taught me and as I choose to perceive. I did that with bodybuilding. We set a goal and I won the trophy and then I imploded, and God intervened. I won my first Spartan Ultra last year after months of grinding. I will never forget Mike’s lack of outward enthusiasm and my perplexity until he said “I watched you prepare. I’m not surprised”. Of course the day could’ve gone very differently, but I set a goal and I set my schedule around that goal and I sacrificed my social life and spent my energy focused on getting ready for that day. It wasn’t a new sacrifice. That sacrifice is my comfort zone. I’ve known it since I was 12. As you remember, a month after I won the Ultra, I fell bouldering and broke my leg.
And things started to change. I was not only tasked to sit down and sit this one out but forced. I was tasked to be with myself, to let go of the idea that my body and my level of fitness had anything to do with who I was as a person, and just be. I was tasked with following directions and not let my eating disorder voice or “do more and keep going” voice get in the way of those directions. I was tasked with eating more food than I was comfortable so my broken leg could heal; not so that I could keep my jeans loose and take care of myself. I was tasked with taking it easy upon return and being open minded to what experience I was going to have, knowing it’s an experience I’ve continued to never have before.
And if you’ve been following along, it’s been an experience. A close friend of mine very familiar with setbacks and injuries and surgeries warned me that it would be an entire year (or more) before I was “normal”. I didn’t know what she meant, but I am experiencing it. I am functioning highly but not normally. My ankle still hurts, and sometimes it hurts a lot. 52 miles made it super cranky, and I can’t run on the trails as much as I’d like. Sometimes I can’t really even run on them at all, like this morning, where downhills made me a little teary and I shuffled my way for 2.5 hours because I wanted to be in the woods over covering a certain distance.
Enter COVID. Another blessing not yet over for my changing mindset and fitness aspirations. Spring races were canceled, and it made not being ready for any a relief in disguise. I was still planning on racing a local and very difficult trail 50k July 11, and up until a few weeks ago, that was still my plan. But if you read the previous paragraph, you know that’s not happening either. And for the first time ever, I’m not upset about it. I know it’s the right thing to do for my long-term health and ankle. I’m also just tired. And I’m tired of being tired. And I’m not just tired because it’s hot as shit outside and I run in any weather, or tired because I do a lot (with my entire life, not just fitness).
I’m tired of pushing the envelope. I’m tired of always having big physical goals that take me away from the rest of my life. I’m tired of constantly putting emphasis on the training aspect of my life, instead of the other parts that remain seemingly unavailable to me. I’m tired of neglecting my relationships and the opportunity to hang out with other people. I’m tired of not being able to be spontaneous. I’m tired of feeling like I keep choosing me, and not the other people in my life. I’m tired of choosing the pursuit of (insert anything here), and not just showing up casually.
And I’m over it. I’m over choosing to sacrifice my weekends to run for hours in the humidity. I’m over choosing to sacrifice a weeknight because I have to get up early to beat the humidity and be ready for work on time. I’m over choosing not to swim because it’s not my sport, or not biking because I have to run. I’m not saying I’ve regretted any one of my choices – they’ve molded me into the organized, disciplined and efficient woman I am today, but I’m ready for different. I’m ready for less. I’m ready for saying “yes” to socializing and new experiences and different opportunities. I’m already playing softball and although I am somewhat terrified of little hard balls flying through the air and pelting my face, I’m showing up anyway. I’m ready to say “yes” to water skiing and tubing instead of calculating the potential risks that would pull me away from race training.
Once upon a time I was afraid to enter recovery for my eating disorder because I was under the guise that I’d have to stop training in order to do so. As it turns out, I don’t want to train as much anyway. And I haven’t been training to be smaller to fit into my own life. I’ve been training because I love training.
But now, I want to love some other stuff too. I’ll still be running, and I’ll still be lifting, and who knows what other shenanigans I’ll get into physically. I am genuinely relieved and excited and willing to change it all. I’m genuinely relieved to know I can partake more in my own life with other people. I am genuinely excited to know I’ll have more energy to get my book out into the world, and to continue to work for Insperity. I am genuinely willing to do whatever this body says she wants to do, whatever this heart says feels right, and keep on keeping on it.
I hope you join me, and take this opportunity to look at your goals an if they fit into your life, or if you have been trying to make your life fit them like me, instead.