All my body wants to do is stop – stop running, stop moving, stop caring. I am less than a half mile into my run and the treadmill feels like it’s dragging me down into the depths of a cold abyss. There is no light at the end of this tunnel today. My marathon schedule calls for a four-mile run at race pace. That’s it? Four miles and I cannot even get past the first three minutes. This is essentially the first day of “The Taper” – easing off my training during the last two weeks before the Boston marathon. The taper is hard for a lot of people and apparently, I’m one of them. It’s hard because you have to give up control and believe that the 18 weeks of training prior to the taper will be enough. I feel a deep ache. I stop the belt and lean over trying to take deeper breaths and feebly stretch my screaming hamstrings. I know what this is and this is not overtraining.
So today I will not try to save myself.
This is the feeling I get when I know running cannot help – when four miles feels like forty. When my body wants no part of 4:45 a.m. and my heart wants no part of the human race. The irony is that these are the days when I need running the most. If you know me, you know that running is my therapy. I’ve never been diagnosed with any type of mental disorder or depression or bipolar or PTSD, but I’m here to tell you that I know what it feels like to suffer just like everyone else – even though I cannot really explain why the feeling has gripped me so tightly today. I decide to slow my pace but that inner voice is haranguing me. “Girl, this is four miles! What the hell is your problem? You’ve got Boston in two weeks – do you realize how far you have to run in that race. Get a grip.” I try to ignore the voice. I need to figure out what is wrong with me and that voice is only making things worse.
What’s wrong? I ask myself. I can’t even answer the question. I don’t know exactly. I don’t know if it’s fear or worry or fatigue or loneliness or helplessness. Maybe it’s all of it – the pressures of everyday life finally crashing down on me when all I want to do is run from it. What I do know is that we all suffer. Ours is a complex mind that does a terrible job of reassuring us that we are good enough, strong enough, smart enough, pretty enough. Enough. Enough. We suffer because we are human beings who need to feel valued. And, to feel valued and worthy, we feel we must earn everything we have. To compound this futility, when we fail – even if it’s only in our mind – we hide the suffering. We suffer in silence because showing our weaknesses is just one more crack in the foundation of a perfect life we so desperately feel we need to build and showcase.
My inner dialogue is starting to create a havoc in my head that’s traveling into my heart when I realize I’ve run exactly 1.98 miles and I’m soaked in sweat. That’s it, I think. I’m stopping. Done. Finished. This run is over. This run will not save me today. But, I know what will. What will save me is accepting my own desperation and the pain that is as much a part of living as is the pleasure. That without moments of suffering we would never recognize the moments of joy. What will save me today is knowing that if we all accept ourselves as we are – no perfection required – and allow ourselves to grieve and mourn we will discover who we really are and what we really need. Maybe then, we will all feel more understood. What will save me today is faith that God loves me at my weakest and at my strongest. He is the One and only who requires nothing of me. I can rest now.
As I step off the treadmill, I feel at bit more at peace. But I still fear that this lame effort and poorly-timed emotional hiccup is simply a sign that I’m unprepared for the biggest race of my life. I still feel discouraged that I let my heavy heart control me and change my direction. But then I think, maybe God has bigger plans for me. Maybe I just need to give up control and trust that there is a reason for everything – that I’m protected and safe. I do believe that things happen exactly the way they’re supposed to happen. So today I will not try to save myself. I’m pretty sure that’s already been done for me.
[The Boston Marathon is April 21, 2014 and I’m running to raise money for Boston Children’s Hospital. If you would like to be with me in spirit, please click here to donate.]
