I spent most of the summer reveling in the fact that I ran a marathon at the beginning of May.
I also spent it drinking iced coffees...not black ones...more like Venti ones (which translates into ginormously fat sized ones) with caramel and vanilla syrup and cream (um, okay, extra cream).
And I spent it taking a long break from consistently running.
It was probably a good thing.
My body and my mind were exhausted from the training....but Holy Fuck...let me tell you what happens when you pound sugar like it's your job and stop all significant bodily movement...
Your flesh retaliates and pushes a big middle finger in your face and says, "Your free pass has expired and if you wanna keep playing this game, I'll give you something to cry about." As if the reality of my swim suit wasn't enough.
And so, I put together my fall race plan...half marathons scheduled for September, October and November and devised my training program. Six days of pain...including lifting, cross-training and of course, lots of miles.
And then, I started seriously getting back into it. I revised my play list, bought new running shoes, set my alarm for o'dark thirty and made the commitment. Allow me to begin by saying, "Why in the HELL is it so hard to achieve meaningful fitness goals and so fucking easy to have everything turn to shit in just a few short weeks?" The universe is a cruel place.
I have a million running skirts, tanks, short shorts and they are all staring me in the face, begging to be worn again...feeling neglected in the corner of my closet.
And so, how do I get back up again? Especially when it feels insurmountable and I know just how much work is required to get back to where I was.
This morning...I checked Facebook and found a status update from a friend who simply wrote, "Burpees...done." And I wrote, "Burpees are my nemesis. But when I do them well, I know I'm in a good spot." And he wrote, "Most of the time, I splatter to the ground and pray to get back up. But I suppose the getting back up is the point."
And there it is.
In everything in life, all that matters is that we get back up and make a choice to try again. It doesn't have to be pretty. It certainly won't look the way it has when we've done it in the past. It won't be perfect. It will probably be painful. Every fiber of our being will rebel. But we have to choose to recommit to us.
And so my mantras this week have been:
“It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.” Confucious
"It always seems impossible until it's done." Nelson Mandela
Here's to getting it done...getting back up...affording myself some grace along the way and a stiff kick in the ass regularly. I'm worth it.