This has been an amazing year for me so far. That is a strange thought considering I have spent more time injured than well and until this week, I was barely able to log even a third of the weekly mileage I was doing pre-marathon (December). Historically, my mental well-being has been strongly linked to my running, and my sanity, in general, has relied on the daily sweat sessions in order to maintain some semblance of normalcy. But, like a heroine addict entering rehab, it was snatched away from me. I ruptured my posterior tibial tendon when I rolled my ankle back in November and the marathon was the last straw before my body asked me to take a break and let it breathe for a second..... gulp! Commence the withdrawal shakes, inner brain wars with ugly demons, and floundering self-esteem. How the hell am I supposed to deal with all the crap inside of me without running?!?!? After several "relapses" and subsequent bodily revolts, I knew the options were quite clear:

1. Take the time COMPLETELY off from running and just heal for God's sake...... and learn a
new, improved, healthy way to deal with your mushy brain. Clearly, the world is not going to
come to an end just because Rebecca Wroten cannot go log miles.....

or

2. Keep pushing it... Go ahead... you just keep pushing your body until the running gods take
running away from you permanently.... I double dog dare ya...

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!

I enlisted the help of Dr Frank Shultz to give me someone to talk to about all the swirling junk in my head, but also to help me understand why it was there and how to better deal with it. My friend/colleague/adoptive mother/sounding board, Betsy, tells me almost daily that the hardest change to make is self-change and the hardest person to deal with is the one that looks back at you every morning in the mirror. Oh, how true! This was a scary journey, but a necessary one, and I felt like the timing was impeccable.

I am looking down the path and I see the door to my thirties just ahead. If I turn and look back at my twenties, it is not a pretty sight-- full of bad decisions, self imposed chaos, multiple directional changes. As Dr Shultz puts it, I haven't done anything "wrong," I've just survived and sought answers using the map I was given and the knowledge I had acquired through the years. I was seeking a path the only way I knew how, survival mode, and I was doing a hella good job at surviving..... the problem has been thriving. The map I had wasn't cutting it, but venturing away from what you know, heading off the beaten path requires a lot of courage, humility up the wazoo, and determination. My map was a circle and I was diligently running the loop over and over again in an attempt to somehow end up somewhere else. Maybe you can see what I couldn't..... that was never gonna happen..... huh..... weird.

So here we are, three months later. I haven't written much about this journey... at least not publicly. It has been the hardest thing I have ever done. I have had to become vulnerable, to open the ginormous gate to my heart and break down some pretty thick walls. I do not like to feel vulnerable, it is a scary scary scary feeling. I have had to look myself in the mirror and decide that I'm ok with me, just as I am. I have had to start to learn to love people unconditionally, for where they are right now rather than trying to "fix" them or "save" them. They aren't broken or lost, they are on a journey just like me and all I can do is show them a different map. I have had to learn to be okay enough with myself to accept love rather than trying constantly to earn it, working harder and harder to prove that I deserve whatever love is given to me.

This week I ran a long run. It was a wednesday morning at 11 am. I ran to Betsy's office and I cried. Not a sweat cry (ok, well yes a sweat cry but this one involved tears too). My first real, true, tears and everything cry in 15 months. Tears actually fell from my eyes. My stomach squeezed, my heart flipped circles, my brain stopped working... and then, I ran some more. I ran a hole right through the bottom of my shoe. I blazed a trail until my body ached like my heart and all the pent up emotions fell from my eyes. This was a different sorta run, like a final hoorah, a goodbye to my past. Not that I will never again run out my emotions, but that my emotional well-being will no longer rest solely on that release.

I took a turn.

I stepped off the loop I have been running for over a decade now.

I am heading in a direction for which I do not have a map. It's a little scary, I'm not gonna lie, but it's the only way to move forward....... at a full tilt run, of course! :-)

Grab a shovel! We're gonna have to dig deep...

I like a challenge. If you know me, you know that. I like to push my limits and see what I can do and find new places in my heart and soul that I never knew existed. For a lot of people, that's uncomfortable. It's dark and ugly in there and, quite frankly, it's so much easier just to leave the door closed and imagine the heaping pile of mess inside will just disintegrate into oblivion. It won't. It is one of the few things in life I am absolutely sure of....

This past weekend was filled with opportunities for many of my good friends and clients and myself, for that matter, to dig deep and discover how much inner strength we all possess. The Ragnar Relay is a 203 mile race across the state of Florida. You run as a team passing the baton as you go. You run on grass, on roads, on trails. You run through the heat of the day and the cold of the night. You run in blackness so complete that only the halo from your headlamp provides the only protection from the darkness-- you run and you run and you run some more. This continues through the night with only two very short naps (maybe an hour each) and not nearly enough food. And when the dawn finally breaks through, you can't help but to wonder, for just a moment, exactly why you are doing this. Or more accurately, how you are going to do this last segment.

That was exactly what I was thinking as I stood in the chute ready to take the baton from my teammate and head out on my final segment of the race.

I like a challenge. If you know me, you know this. But, I have never in my life had to dig as deep as I had to dig on November 21st at 1:55 pm. Never. I've been tired before, so tired I thought I could just curl up in whatever spot I was in and sleep for days. I've been hungry before. I mean, the kind of hunger where you're own hand starts to look kind of tasty. I have certainly had my body ache and scream at me. My body has said things to me that would make a sailor blush. I have never experienced all three at once, at top intensity. I will tell you, it was not the most awesome I have ever felt.

So, I took the baton and I did the only thing I could do. I ran. One foot in front of the other, one step after another, focused on the person in front of me, the person I had to pass. The distance between us shrank with every footfall. I passed her and I kept running. It hurt, it was hard, but I kept moving. Running, running, running. And then, I fell. I stepped in a hole and the pain shot through my whole leg from the toes to the top. My knees buckled as I fell like a tree, a solid mass colliding with the ground. My face hit the dirt and my nose pushed halfway up to my forehead. I sucked in air and my eyes filled with tears. The tears poured over onto my cheeks mixing with the dirt and the blackness dripped onto the grass. The pain was throbbing and radiating. I couldn't breathe and if there had been food in my stomach, I would have puked. I stared down at the black puddle in front of me and watched another black teardrop fall from my nose and join the others. The blackness inside me: my worst enemy and my biggest motivator, my heckler and my coach. I run because it makes me and I run to get rid of it. I closed my eyes really tight, took a slow deep breath, glanced back and saw the form of the girl in the distance behind me. I reached deep down into my soul to dig out the last ounce of anything I might have inside, and I stood up. Oh God, it hurt. It hurt so very, very bad. But, I did the only thing you can ever do when things get tough. I started moving, I looked to the horizon and I started heading that direction. At first, just a limp, then a walk, and finally a jog. The wind pounded me in the face, taking every opportunity to beat the ever-loving crap out of what little spirit I had left. The terrain was merciless with its ups and downs. Monsters were reaching out of the ground and stabbing my ankle with every single step. The sun taunted and teased me determined to melt away any hope of finishing. I stared at the horizon and my jog became a run.

"One foot in front of the other.... Run with perseverance.... One foot in front of the other.... Run with perseverance...." The mantra rolled through my head over and over. The cadence of my feet carried an awkward off-beat shuffle sound. My mind became a void and my breathing matched the beat of my heart, a breakneck race to see which would max out first. And then I saw the sign. One mile to go. I glanced back. No one in sight. I tucked my chin and I pushed even harder. As I rounded the last bend, I saw my team hands in the air waving and screaming like a bunch of idiots and my whole body felt them pulling me forward. I handed off the baton, squatted down and let the tears fall. This time, they weren't black.

Hiawasee

There it is. Right in front of you. You can't see the top til you get there. Once you do, you can't see the bottom anymore. It's like hell on Earth while your pedaling. But when it's over, you don't remember how bad it was and you wonder about the next one, the bigger one, the steeper one, the harder one.... and so goes life....

Last weekend, I went to the mountains of North Georgia for what I refer to as a vacation--- full days of biking up the hardest mountains you can find, running the trails, and swimming carefree miles in the cool, open waters. For me, I can't imagine a vacation better than days with conquests so challenging you can't believe them when you see them. And nights so exhausted and yet strangely exhilarated by the fact that you did! Such a dichotomy of emotions....

We spent hours on the bikes during the three days we were there. It was good for me, for my mind and for my heart. I fill my life with people because I love people. I love their stories, I love to watch their reactions and emotions. People fascinate me with their unique struggles and backgrounds and dreams. I love the intimacy of quiet conversations about love and hope and despair. And I love them more when they are shared over the open road in the darkness of the wee hours of the morning. The last year has been so tough for me. I lost my baby, I lost my best friend and in some ways, I think I lost my mind. The pain in my heart is so intense that I feel the only expression is physical. I take the pain in my heart and disperse it into my workouts. When my body is tired, my mind is still.

As we biked up the steepest climb in North Georgia, I thought at moments that my quadriceps might rip from the bone. The air was thin, my lungs were hungry and at one point the darkness was closing in so rapidly I thought I might not even get my foot down in time. My chest was pounding as my heartrate maxed and I don't even know where the strength came from to take even one more pedal stroke. Each corner we turned revealed an even steeper climb with only the promise of another corner ahead. An hour and five minutes uphill. Pure Torture. But, when we reached the top and looked out over the valley, it was so clear, so beautiful, and so obvious. We couldn't see the whole picture until the end, not until we could really appreciate it. That's just how it is.... That mountain view would have been nice to someone who had driven up there but it would never have compared to the view we got to see. We put in the work and thus reaped our own reward- a deeper satisfaction in our work and a greater appreciation of the challenge.

We high-fived and gave our pats on the backs and exclaimed that we had never seen such a beautiful sight. Most importantly, though, we couldn't believe how far we had come. In the moment, in the pain, it was just about squeezing one more push out of tired legs..... left, then right, then left, then right. Now with the whole picture in view, it was the realization that the journey, no matter how hard or how long is always worth the effort.

I climbed back on my bike and started down the mountain.

I never hit the brakes.

40 mph clipped into a bicycle is a freedom and fear like nothing else.

“I believe life is constantly testing us for our level of commitment, and life's greatest rewards are reserved for those who demonstrate a never-ending commitment to act until they achieve. This level of resolve can move mountains, but it must be constant and consistent. As simplistic as this may sound, it is still the common denominator separating those who live their dreams from those who live in regret.” ~ Anthony Robbins

Do these pants make my butt look big?

People are always forever telling me that I “wear a lot of hats.” I always respond to this by saying, “Ah, but the important thing is what PANTS I am wearing….” In reality, I only have two hats that I ever wear- a Brooks white visor, which keeps my crazy fly-aways in place without making me look fat-faced, or a black brooks cap, which means my hair is both unruly and unbrushed and quite possibly unwashed. My pants on the other hand, are quite numerous- in my drawer, and my closet, and my gym bag, and the floor of the bathroom, and pretty much anywhere else they come to rest. I have fat pants and skinny pants, I have colorful pants and classic black pants, I have serious business pants and ratty jeans.
Now, I realize that when people tell me that I wear a lot of hats they are referring to the many different positions or “standings” that I hold--- coaching, training, teaching, being the almighty president of the Tri club, a daughter, a wife, an Aunt, a friend, a sister, a student, a marathoner, a triathlete…… the list goes on and on and on. The hat comment always bothers me, though, because it always refers to the things that I DO. I always make the pants comment in return because it refers to my ATTITUDE while I’m doing those things, way more important in my humble opinion. You see, if I am wearing my wife hat but my grumpy pants, everyone suffers in my wake because my attitude sucks and no matter how much I DO, it all gets overshadowed by my crappy attitude while I’m doing it. If I am wearing my biker hat (well, I suppose that would be a helmet, huh?) but I forget my patient pants, then the first flat tire ruins the whole ride and suddenly I hate biking. That’s a waste of a day, right?
Today, a group of us went out to ride the Hills in Clermont, FL. If you are familiar with the area, it is renowned for its big hills. Hey! They are big for Florida, ok? So take off your holier-than-thou-those-aren’t-hills-pants for goodness sakes!!!! Anyway, within the first 5 minutes someone from the group had a flat. I should take a moment to point out that this is one of MANY reasons running is way better than biking. Normally, this would aggravate the ever loving snot out of me. I would smile and help change the tire but Oh.My.Goodness flat tires annoy me. I felt the frustration coming on and I looked around and noticed I was the only person who looked the least bit perturbed-- I suppose I snuck my bitch hat under my helmet? I took a deep breath and considered how much nicer the ride might be if I just took a second to forget myself and my agenda and my heart rate and my cadence and my speed and slipped into my patient pants. So, I did. And you know what, I didn’t hate riding today. It was pretty enjoyable! I wonder if my patient pants make my butt look nice…..

Honesty is a gift...

In our society, it is very rare that we feel the freedom to be honest with others. I am not talking about the mean, crass, opinionated kind of honesty that jumps to mind, but instead of the kind of honesty that speaks truth into people's lives and validates what they already know in their hearts to be true. I am also talking about the kind of honesty that keeps us from over-commiting, that let's friends and family know how much we love them, and tells someone that they have hurt our feelings. Women, especially, seem to have trouble being honest. That is not to say we are all bold-faced liars who bamboozle everyone around us. What I do find though, is that women are so afraid to speak up and tell the truth that they often allow their own health, fitness, desires, wishes, and time to be swindled away.

More often than not, we juggle an enormous weight of stressors just barely keeping each one in the air. Until, of course, one falls and then they all come crashing down and we "don't know what happened because we can usually handle everything." We take on more and more responsibility and sacrifice ourselves in the process. I think we somehow see this as powerful, but the reality is that we often go through the motions without feeling the joy of life because we just can't. It's not fun anymore.

A woman is a powerful creature and honesty is a powerful tool. Honesty is a gift. In my own life, I struggle with being honest, with telling someone I just can't do something for them. I struggle to tell someone that they have hurt my feelings. I try to be everything for everyone. I am on a mission to be more honest. I want to speak truth to my friends and feel truly joyous when I commit to something. I want to be honest with my husband when I need help from him, rather than fuming underneath and "just doing it myself." I want to be honest with myself when I do something wrong, rather than shifting the blame or making excuses.

I respect people who are honest with me. My friend, Luchrysta, shoots straight from the hip. She is never afraid to tell me when I am not doing what is Godly or when I need to re-evaluate my priorities. It sounds painful, I know. And it is most of the time..... but I ALWAYS appreciate her input and perspective. When we take the time to be truly honest with each other, the picture is so much clearer. So, I am going to try it. I'll let you know how it goes.....God help me!

Running Partners

I am what my friends affectionately refers to as a "Running Whore." I know, I know, it's not nice. As a matter of fact, it actually sounds quite mean but I assure you, if you know my friends, it is not. There is really not much I can say back to him when he says this because in all honesty, it is the truth.

"Hello. My name is Rebecca and I have a problem. I will run with anyone, at any time of day, and pretty much anywhere."

This is one of the big things I notice can be quite different between men and women when it comes to running. Women will run with just about anyone they can at any time of day. I know exactly who to call if I need to start at 4 am and who will sweat it out in the sun at lunch and who will force me to do it later in the evening. I know who to call when I need a speedwork session and who will do the hills and even who will go run next to me on the treadmill. Women will also compromise and make sacrifices in order to run with their friends, something men do not generally do.

I think it begins with the fact that women really "shouldn't run alone." While it is perfectly acceptable for a man to run at some ungodly hour all by his lonesome, us being the fairer, more delicate, and generally less hairy sex makes us a bit more desireable to the meanies of the world. At least once a week, I leave Brian behind and me and the dog, Sophie, go meet the girls for some Girl Running. I love this time because Girl Running rarely has an agenda. We have really no pace in mind, we can stop and stretch or use the bushes as needed, we rarely have anyone in the group who farts or blows snot-rockets, and we talk non-stop the whole time. Yes, the WHOLE TIME. We've laughed, we've cried, we've shared secrets and heartaches and stories and memories and scandals... and we've done all this before 6 am! Such multi-taskers, us women! This is nothing like when men run (or ride) together where the testosterone begins flowing before their heart rate evens gets elevated and the whole effort is 100% and they talk about how easy it is and pound their chests and finally come home and whine the rest of the day about how bad they hurt. You know what I am talking about, I know you do.

I have some of the best running partners a girl could ever want. I love each of them dearly and they have saved me from myself more time than they will ever know. I remember the morning after I found out my baby was dying, my friend Betsy met me at some ungodly hour (5 am, I think) in 40* weather to go biking. It could have possibly been the worst workout ever, EVER I tell you! But, never once did Betsy or the others even speak of turning around. It wasn't an option. They knew better than me that just as the cold was numbing my fingers and toes, the ride was numbing my brain and giving me the freedom to let my mind be still, just for a moment. I will never forget that ride. Had I been in a good frame of mind, I would have been the first to suggest we just go back and get pancakes. But that day, I needed to ride. And my friends suffered so I could. I have really really good friends.