I CAN

I wasn't sure I was going to tell this story here, because it makes me feel really vulnerable. But this is my running journal, and you're probably reading this because we're friends and/or you have at least a shred of interest in how my training is going, so here goes...

Yesterday I finished Week 6 of Couch to 5k. It was the most gorgeous day, we went out at dusk, I felt great starting out. It was a huge challenge to run 25 minutes for the first time (the longest I had run previously was 20 minutes 2 weeks ago), but I was determined to finish and I did! I was so excited for the feeling of accomplishment that was going to come along with finishing my workout. But then I let that pesky head of mine get in the way and ruin everything.

Andy stayed with me the whole time yesterday. He's on the final week of the program and usually runs much faster than I do, but he had spent the whole morning working out so he chose to take it easy. He and I have started a routine where, for the last minute of our run, we push to go as hard and fast as we can. I was planning on skipping that yesterday, because it's been a pretty informal effort so far and just finishing 25 minutes was going to be a huge enough goal for myself.

So the last minute came up, and he picked up the pace, and asked me to as well. I tried it for about 10 seconds and just could not do it. So I told him that, and he urged me to try again, because he's really good about pushing my boundaries and limits in a safe and only slightly uncomfortable way. But I didn't feel like I could do it, and I was focused on finishing out that last minute strongly, so I said those evil words: "I can't."

He went ahead and finished up his run (he had 5 extra minutes), and I fell apart. Instead of feeling that endorphin high that I love so much, I felt crushed. I felt like I had completely let myself down. I knew it wasn't a big deal, and especially now the next day feel almost silly about it, but in the moment it was real. I'm disappointed that I couldn't feel joy in the fact that I had accomplished something so huge (by far the biggest physical challenge so far in my life), and yet all I could think about was those stinging words. I was crushed.

Andy had no idea that I was upset until I finally was able to muster up the words to tell him, in between my hyperventilating sobs (sorry for the dramatic flair, but it's a true story). In his infinite insightfulness, he right away pointed out the crux of why I was so upset. Those words are so tied to my lifetime of deep, deep pain around my health and taking care of myself and exercise (or lack thereof) and beating myself up for being a failure at all of those things, until now. I am making progress by leaps and bounds, but the emotional healing part of this is going to take a long time, possibly even longer than the physical conditioning that it's going to take to run a half marathon.

But that's okay with me, because now I know that I can.