The voices in my head

I took on a challenge last January when I signed up for my first ever race.  I initially thought I'd do the 5K, play it safe, I knew I could finish 3.1 miles.  But after some loving prodding from a very good friend I took the plunge and signed up for the 10K and, in an effort to not embarrass myself, I started training.

The race is called Race for the Roses and it is a benefit for Albertina Kerr Center which helps foster kids, among other things.  This is a noble thing I think, to support children in a time of great upheaval and unimaginable stress.  This is what attracted me to this particular race.  I wanted my first race to have some personal meaning, figured it would help me as I plod along the course for 6.2 miles. The truth is I would love to be a foster family, I would love to shelter a child through a storm, it just isn't feasible at this point in my life.  So since I can't be a foster Mom I can raise some funds, right?  Right!

I joined a wonderful site to help me track my training, The Daily Mile, and I started running.  So far since I started in January I have run 73 miles.  That's pretty freaking awesome for a woman who used to say "I run...if someone is chasing me" and mean it.  I used to look at runners and think, "man I wish I could...but I just can't do that!  I guess I just wasn't built to be a runner."  I remember trying it in high school, I ran up and down the hill by my house....once...and promptly quit.  The shin splints the next day were brutal!  I tried again in college, I went to the track with a theater buddy....once....again the pain the next day was enough to send me running back to my couch.  Honestly I was not a healthy teen or college student.  My idea of breakfast was a diet coke and a granola bar or a bagel slathered with cream cheese.  I shudder when I think of all the crap I consumed and consider it a total miracle I made it through, hopefully, unscathed.  If I knew then....yeah, hind sight is always 20/20.  Looking back at my diet and exercise-and I use that word loosely-routine it is no wonder I was not successful when I started to run but the thing that makes me sad is how easy 15 year old me gave up and again how easy 21 year old me quit.  A little pain and I was out!  The truth is I didn't really believe I could do it.  I had no faith in my legs to carry me or my heart to beat strong enough for me to cover a single mile let alone the 6.2 I face in a little over a week.

That lack of faith is something I've struggled with all my life.  I didn't come from "athletic stock" my parents never pushed me to stay active the way I push (by push I mean encourage) my own boys.  I was on the basketball team in grade school, I believe I scored a basket...once.  In high school I was on the dance team and that was my only sports experience in high school.  I loved dance team but it was more social than athletic for me.  We competed but as a team, if we won it was because we all did well, it was not because I was the best at anything.  While I have very fond memories of my dance team days it was not a competitive thing for me.  I simply was not raised to get out there and fight for the ball, or kick harder, score the goal or win the race.  I wish I had been if I'm honest, I wish my parents had been more active and encouraged us to be, but they weren't and that message was ingrained in me from an early age-sports were...meh...who cares? 

As a mother now I know I care.  I care not only about my children being active in sports but I care about me being active.  It makes me a better mother, it makes me a better woman, it keeps me sane.  But still I hear the whisper of my childhood, the self doubt. 

What if you can't finish?  It whispers. 

What if you're last??  It snickers. 

Why can't you run as gracefully as that girl over there???  It goads. 

Oh seriously, I tell that voice, shut the F up!  Aye those voices, those voices, those voices...those voices can just kiss my butt.  Seriously, when do they stop?  Will I be plagued with doubt forever?  If it isn't running it's parenting, if it isn't parenting it's my hair, my nails, the size of my tush or my...whatever.  When does it end?  It ends now.

I think that's one of the other reasons I am doing this race.  I need to have that moment of finishing something I seriously never thought I could do.  I never thought I could run 6.2 miles but last weekend I ran 5.3, and I ran it all.  I was sore as heck the next day but did I quit?  No, I went to the gym for my weights and stretching training day.  I will not quit.  I also want my son to see me finish this, he's amazing, he doesn't get as discouraged as I do, he's hard on himself-sometimes harder than I think he should be-but that boy is determined and that will take him far in life.  I want him to look at me and be proud of me for setting a goal, training for it (I really did not want to make a fool of myself!) and seeing it through.  I want him to look at me and know that it is important to keep moving, to be active, to compete.  Even if you're only really competing against yourself.  He asked me what if I didn't win, I had to explain to him that at this point just finishing the race will be a win for me, it will set my time to beat for the next race and that is enough for me.  Between you and me if by some miracle the adrenaline kicks in and I did finish first I would probably celebrate it much like he did when he won Run for the Arts! 

So next weekend, on April 3rd, around 7:35 am think of me and send me good thoughts as I start my race and silence those voices.  I will not quit.