A Little Crap in the Yard Makes the Grass Greener...

There is a risk in loving someone; they are not perfect, you are not perfect. And when you make the decision to close your eyes and jump all in, to take down every wall, to let someone see you, you risk the very core of your soul. I have not loved someone in a looooong time. I have had a black heart for a looooog time, one with walls so high that no light could reach it. I have not trusted another person, fully and completely, enough to allow them access to the soft, squishy center of my soul since I was very young. I have been abandoned in my life by friends and lovers, by family. I have been trampled on, taken advantage of, thrown to the ground, made fun of, denigrated. I have been told I was worthless and I have felt even more so. I have made decisions that hurt myself and hurt others, I have failed more than I have succeeded. I suppose, in reality, I deserve nothing more than gut punches and bad karma.

Somehow, by the grace of the very God I have scorned, I have been blessed to be able to see all of my shortcomings in full light. I have been given the camera to my own soul and seen myself for what I was. I have been given the strength and courage to face it and change it. I have never been spared the consequences of my actions, something I once saw as an injustice, but now see as a blessing. I was unable to love and scared to trust.

Until this past year...

Perhaps the very strength of truly loving someone is being cut deep and letting the wounds heal stronger? I'm really not quite sure. I often feel the demons of past hurt tugging at me, pulling me back to the blackness that is so comfortable, yet so barren and unforgiving. I am afraid of becoming that person again but I am also afraid of how unprotected my heart is... I have paid so dearly before. And yet, here I stand, my soul is naked in front of my friends, my family, Mark. I refuse to hide behind false pretenses ever again. I refuse to not ask the hard questions both of myself and of others. And, I refuse to believe that life is some great cosmic poker game where each side is constantly seeking to expose the weakness of the other. It takes two to play and I folded.


Last night, Mark and I did something I've never actually done before. We wrote out goals-- individual goals and team goals, goals for our fitness endeavors, our finances, our personal growth. It was a fascinating experience to sit and verbalize to another person where I fall short and how I want to improve. Historically, I've not been quite so reflective. Afraid of all the crap I would see, I preferred to set goals that were easily achievable for me but impressive to others. The last year, though, has really taught me that the very things I have been afraid to "see" are the exact things that have landed me squarely where I am right now. The grass is greener today not because I got rid of all the crap but because I finally let it do its job. I let it fertilize my soul. I finally let my life blossom from the filth. Sure, it's stinky and dirty and imperfect, but in time, the whole thing will be covered with the beautiful moments and all that will be left are the lessons of yet another not so perfect life.

I will continue to give myself completely to this not so perfect life, I will continue to be "naked" in front of others, and I will continue to remember that every weakness is also a strength, every strength also a weakness.

So, watch your step and feel free to stop and smell the roses :-)

Another Birthday, A year of Promise!

Well, it came and it went. I am now 29 years old and I think I had the best birthday I have ever had... no fanfare, nothing huge and exciting, no giant totally notable presents. Yet, it was perfect in every way imaginable. I passed from my 28th year of life into my 29th year of life much like a duck flies awkwardly and feverishly through the sky, without an ounce of grace, just to land perfectly poised in the water, suddenly smooth and peaceful. That is how I would describe my birthday weekend. I feel like I have suddenly landed in the water and I am gliding..... at least for now.

I have been pondering an idea, a thought, a challenge for a few weeks now. I want something to commemorate this next year of life, something that represents growth in every aspect of my life. And so, I have decided to conquer 12 challenges in the 12 months ahead. To embark on 12 adventures that will challenge my heart, my soul, my body, my mind, and my spirit. I want challenges that further me as a human, an athlete, a leader, a woman. I have started to plan out these adventures and I would be lying if I didn't say that some of them scare the crap out of me! But, here we go... 12 months, 12 adventures. The beginning starts this Friday. Stay tuned....

Running Blind

Two weeks ago I flew out to Calabasas, California to do some really exciting work in the Health and Fitness industry. I flew out Sunday afternoon after waking up super early to crew some of my runners at their very first 10K race (HUGE accomplishment for these ladies, by the way, since they just STARTED running in late spring of 2009! I was so proud!). I arrived in Los Angeles, did all the annoying but necessary car rentals and blah, blah, blah and headed out to Clabasas excited to get to run in a new place in the morning.

Monday morning I woke up super early, even earlier than I do here and without an alarm (ugh. Stupid time difference). The weather was bee-ay-oo-tee-ful, and I even got to wear a mock turtle neck and thin tights! I rarely get to put those to use here in Florida. Anyways, the hotel was in a sort of deserted area and it was plenty dark (4:30 am) and I didn't really have any idea or plan of where to run. So, I took a right.

Now, I have been fortunate enough to run in a lot of places and in a lot of conditions. When I studied in France, I ran through the streets of Reims and past the cathedral where they signed the Treaty of Versailles. I could picture the men of that time sitting around discussing poiltics and the tense, palpable air. In Paris, I ran past the Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower, enjoying the sweet smell of coffee, cigarettes and pastries (for some reason cigarettes smell better in Paris... it's weird). In London, I ran through the red light district and past the soldiers with the fuzzy hats. I ran in Sweden and Denmark. I ran in Toronto and Quebec. I ran in New Orleans--- of course, that was a different kind of run and we will try to forget that one :D-- and I ran in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, which is nearly impossible for a native Floridian. I wouldn't even call that one a run, as a matter of fact. I've run through the streets of Vegas, around Central Park, through Washington DC. I'v run on rocks and trails and sand, through mud, and snow, and rain, and even once, in the midst of a hurricane. I am always amazed at how different it is to run in a new place. It's exciting and scary and even a little silly, sometimes, but it is always the first thing I do. It is how I "become one" with my new surroundings for lack of a better explanation.

Often times, when I run in a new place, I imagine that the people there have never seen a runner before, like I am some new oddity, a strange and exotic creature. "Oh my!" They exclaim. "Just look at that graceful being dancing through the streets." In my mind, I can hear the background music that would be playing if it was a scene in a movie and I picture the bystanders pausing at their work, for just an instance, to experience my joy and freedom as I introduce myself to this new place. Clearly, I live in a fantasy world....

I am never afraid when I run in a new place, though. No matter what type of places I run through or what time of day it is, I never feel afraid.

So, I took a right into the blackness. Not a light in sight, except for the hotel which I quickly left behind. I was literally running blind and the silence of this run was deafening. I have never heard anything so thick with silence in my life. The stars were perhaps some of the brightest I have seen, but were still of little use in the lighting of my path. As my eyes began to adjust, I could sense a massive form to my right and I glanced over to see a mountain rising up to the heavens, darker even than the sky. I imagined coyotes and other creatures crouching behind the rocks waiting to see if I was predator or prey. The cold air nipped at my fingers and for the first time ever, I felt the beginnings of something that might have been fear (though I would never admit that, of course). I was weak, vulnerable, slow, and compared to the creatures around me, completely blind and directionless.

Running Blind... huh. What a thought. No direction, no input from your surroundings, no visual cues of which direction to go or what to look out for... A complete and utter sensory deficit. I often feel like I am running blind through life, no idea where I am heading. "Forward and Upwards," I say to people who ask me where I see my life heading. And that's it. That's the only direction I have. If my life is moving forward and my spirit is moving upwards, can I really ask for more than that? I don't think so. Often, I don't know the path is going to turn until I have already run into the tree because I missed it. Ouch! I wonder, on occassion, if at (nearly) 29 yrs old, I should have more answers. Should I have a more fixed destination? Should I have figured out how to use a map and stick to a plan? I don't know. I had a plan once. It didn't look anything like what my life looks like now. What if I had stuck to it? Just plowed right through the trees, determined that this was the only path for me... would I be happy now?

I think I view life differently than a lot of people. I view it as this big maze (like in Alice and Wonderland) with lots of doors. When a door opens, you might as well walk through it. You have no idea where the hell you're really going anyways, right? So, when a door opens, I walk through it. Sometimes, I love what I find on the other side. But, sometimes, I quickly search for another door. Maybe I am getting there, or maybe I am not. In reality, none of us ever know if we are any closer to the end, the final destination, right? We can't see over the high walls, there are no peep holes to know what is on the other side. So, what difference does it make?

And so goes the life of a blind runner, I suppose. You run and you just keep running, moving forwards and upwards. And that's what I do.

I got safely back up the hill to the hotel and wiped the sweat from my brow. I swiped a warm cup of coffee with a shot of cream from the table and let it warm my whole body on the way down. I thought, for a moment, of the crouching coyotes and the invisible snakes, and I shuddered in spite of it. Safe....... for now.

Who is a runner?

Last Saturday, July 4th, when the rest of the world was sleeping in, sunning at the beach, drinking ice cold beer and strawberry daquiris, or simply enjoying ginormous hamburgers, ice cream, apple pie and all the other tasty summer treats, I was pounding the pavement. I wasn't alone, though. Nope. Nine other silly triathletes decided to join me as I endeavored on an unsupported Olympic distance triathlon right here in sunny Lakeland, FL. We jumped right off the dock into a lake and swam 1 mile (gators be damned!), then hopped on the bikes and rode through the streets of Lakeland, and ended with a sweaty 6 mile run in the heat of the day. It was great and honestly, I really don't think I would have preferred to do anything else that day. But, thinking back over it makes me consider the running and triathlon community a bit. Maybe it's just Lakeland or maybe it's running communities in general.... I suppose it could also be the way I speak so convincingly of the fun of torturous endeavors or stupid human feats and thus recruit poor souls to do things with me. Whatever it is, I love being part of a community of people who are so in tune with the ideas of challenge, perseverance, personal sacrifice, and of course reward for a job well done (that would be the beer garden after a race)!

It's interesting to me that after high school suddenly the lines between the cool people and the dorks get a little murky and people redistribute themselves into new groups and even multiple groups based on anything from religion to sport to a love of some weird computer game. Running is one of those groups that seems boundless in regards to age, gender, nationality, ability....really, any limit at all. In one week, I may share the road with someone more than twice my age or someone who worships differently than me. I could race next to a landscaper, a doctor, or even a stay at home mom. And here's the best part! At the end, when we all stand around drinking water or Gatorade (or BEER!!!), we can talk endlessly about a common ground that unites us in some weird brotherhood. I know that every person standing there was once a beginner. I know they have all tried and failed. I know they all have accomplished something that satisfies them on a personal level like nothing else. We may never talk about it, but you can see it in the twinkle of an eye. It is apparent in the finishing moment when you see the pain on their faces contort to a smile so full of life and accomplishment. And you understand. You've been there.

I love running. I love everything about it. But I really love runners.

Take that!!!

It has been 9 months since I raced a race for me. I have paced some athletes to the finish line and just run a few races because it's fun to run them. But I have not stated a race goal and set out to achieve it in nearly a year. So, May 9th I will be targeting the Mayfaire 5K here in Lakeland with a goal of 21:xx.... Gulp! There. It's out on the interwebs for everyone to see. Now, I can begin to fret.

I hate racing. I hate setting a race goal because I know full-well that doing so means that there is a very, very good possibility that I could fail. And a 5K is even worse! In a marathon or half-iron distance tri you can make lots of excuses--- a bad stomach, dehydration, hitting the proverbial wall. Not so much with a 5K. A race goal is very important because it gives the runner a measure by which to determine how their training is going. It provides information about the training plan, the diet, the pacing, all sorts of stuff. Sounds useful, huh? Yet, this "useful tool" looms over me like the boogie man who used to sleep under my bed. As a kid, I would stand on the bed and literally leap through the door to the hall so his grimey, slimey fingers couldn't wrap around my ankle and pull me down. I would lie there in the darkness and think up tireless escape plans should he one day yank me into the dark cave. Just the same, my mind is whirring with ways to tweak my training or squeeze in a few more miles or even break my leg so I don't have to race (God help me, I am a sick, sick individual).

One of my athletes, Nicole, emails me periodically in an absolute panic. "I can't do this..... there's no way.... why did I sign up for this?...." I always laugh to myself and think, "Silly Nicole! Believe in the plan; just believe." But here I am with the exact same self-doubt building in my throat as the day gets closer and closer. And the reality of the situation is that it doesn't even matter what the race time turns out to be! How self-absorbed of me to think for one second that posting a time less than my stated goal will matter one teensy. little. bit (Thank you Betsy for pointing that out :P ). What matters is that I was brave enough to set the goal, that I toe the line on race morning and allow myself to measure up and see how well I am doing. What matters is that I run hard as hell and walk away knowing how I can improve. Because the truth is that failure can drive you to greatness or it can grab your ankle and pull you under, just like the boogie man.

So May 9th, I will be at the start line and I will give the boogie man the finger because gosh darn it I'm going for it! 100%.... all out.... fully knowing that I just might fail!

I guess I should admit, then, that my real goal is sub-21 minutes. Since we're being honest and fearless and all like that....