Every morning. This silent game between us. He waits for me to make a move. I pretend I’m still deep in sleep, knowing he doesn’t buy it. And then his power move… he leans in as close to my face as he can, rests his head on the side of the bed, and heaves a heavy sigh. It’s no use. I always lose this game. I open my eyes and see his sweet doodle face – smiling, tail-wagging – telling me it’s time to get the day going.
What Nash doesn’t know is that this particular morning, we’re going to do something we haven’t done in a long time: we’re going for a run. And not just any run – the first of what will be many, as I’ve decided it’s time to do something I haven’t done in more than ten years… train for a half marathon.
The last time I trained for a half, my life was at a major crossroads, faced with many life-changing decisions. Major. Life. Decisions. Many moments where I felt completely out of control and overwhelmed with uncertainty. I couldn’t shake that brutal, crushing sense of self-doubt as I looked deep into the abyss of change, paralyzed with fear by the possibility of making the wrong choice.
Something had to change. I was tired of feeling hamstrung. I had to find a way to change the dynamic, shifting the power balance toward strength and resilience. I wondered: What could I do to meet this moment with the opposite of fear? What would that look like?
I needed a goal. A big one. Something I’d never done before – and something completely unrelated to the choices I was facing. It had to be daunting yet achievable. I had to be able to measure progress and success (or failure) in ways unrelated to the bigger choices. It needed to test my strength and tenacity. And it had to echo the one thing I wanted to remind myself in the face of doubt: that I would be okay no matter what choices I made.
One night out with friends, a bestie asked me if I would run a leg of an upcoming charity race. Running has always been my cardio jam and stress buster, so it was a reasonable ask, and I agreed. I asked her, “How long is the race?” She replied, “I originally signed up for the half. I thought I’d be trained to run it all on my own, but I’m not, and they offer a relay option so we can run it as a team. I thought it would be fun to do it that way.”
And there it was. In all my years of running, I had never challenged myself to the half marathon. I didn’t think I had it in me. It seemed beyond my reach and unattainable. It was perfect. So… I ran the leg of that relay, and then I, along with a group of close friends, signed up for a half marathon. There’s so much to share about that experience, but let’s get back to this morning.
The landscape as I approach this goal is very different. There is far less concern about the unknown and more about managing a myriad of opportunities ahead of me – all of them feeling “right.” The challenge is if, how, and in what way they fit together. I’m not wrestling with a lack of control; I want to infuse a stronger sense of patience, cadence, and pace to create a more cohesive connection and inner connection. This goal is to divert (or broaden) my focus – create the space to move me away from those feelings that I “should be” or “need to” make up my mind about things. This is about allowing the best and right pathways to open to me.
Nash waits patiently by the front door. I pull my shoes from the closet and lace up. I grab his leash, pop in my AirPods, and pick a familiar song list. The first step to any goal is to pick that place – any place – and start. I take a deep breath. I have no idea how this next journey ends; I only know that this is where it begins. I click my watch and select “Outdoor Run,” take a quick peek out the front window before opening the front door, turn to the big doodle smiling at me, and say, “C’mon, buddy. Let’s go for a run.”
Nash waits patiently by the front door. I pull my shoes from the closet and lace up. I grab his leash, pop in my AirPods, and pick a familiar song list. The first step to any goal is to pick that place – any place – and start. I take a deep breath. I have no idea how this next journey ends; I only know that this is where it begins. I click my watch and select “Outdoor Run,” take a quick peek out the front window before opening the front door, turn to the big doodle smiling at me, and say, “C’mon, buddy. Let’s go for a run.”
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Thanks Kate! You inspired me to give myself time, while exercising, to let my brain work through what’s next. It won’t be a half marathon, but on the other side, I’ll be in better mental and physical shape.