m not even going to explain the lack of posting. Blame it on summer, nothing and everything to write about and being busy. And life has just been a little much lately.
The one thing I've been doing more lately is running. not long distances but enough to clear my head, take a deep breath and not wallow in stress.
Last night I had an amazing run. It was a perfect night. I was exhausted and overwhelmed and for some bizarre reason, after putting chloe to bed I decided to put on my running stuff.
I had decided to do my shorter route. But oddly enough when I got to the turn I decided to extend it. My pace was good, nothing hurt. Why not.
When I was running I was thinking about the first time I entered a race. It was hard. It was a 5k but let's face it - for me 5k is a marathon. And the route goes uphill to start and then you turn and go downhill.
When I was running the uphill part I was struggling and I started to cry because I had worked hard to get here and I wasn't going to make it. I walked a minute then ran a minute and I was not happy. I felt like a failure.
The thing is just when I was really about to give into a good cry I passed by a group of people clapping. And it was so unexpected. And amazing. And I ran 2 more minutes. And there were more clappers. All they did was clap, shout and cheer me on. But it was what I needed. I RAN.
It seemed like every time I stopped I'd look up and there was someone screaming for me to keep going.
Often when I run it's not fun. Everything hurts. I run to escape stress. And there are a lot of nights I throw pace out the window and run everything off. I'm soaked with sweat and I know I can cry and the sweat masks it. I love that.
And sometimes I'm tired and wish those clapping people could pop out and start cheering me on. (The fact they'd probably scare the shit out of me is a little irrelevant)
But last night when I was running I kept thinking that sometimes we just have to do it alone.
You know the dumb thing about life is that sometimes I feel I'm so reliant on other people. Do I think I would have made it through that race without the clappers? Probably. I'm pretty sure that at some point I would have told myself to snap out of it and just finish. And that's what happened last night.
The truth is the clapping people probably couldn't have cared less if I made it through or not. There were lots of people to cheer on.
I'm kind of tired of basing who I am on what people tell me I should be. I'm kind of tired of needing people to push me on and cheer for me. And dare I say it - I'm a little tired of being needed so much.
Sometimes you have to give up and throw in the towel. We all wear masks of who we want to be. And the thing is often when I'm not faking it - that's when people think I am.
And maybe I'm talking around some stuff that's really bugging me. Partly because I don't want to post a bunch of personal stuff for the world to read. But when it comes down to it - there's a reason I love Julie Powell. (You know Cleaving and Julie and Julia). It's because she comes to an amazing conclusion - sometimes life just is. And sometimes at the centre of it you aren't going to find the pot of gold.
You're going to find a whole lot of nothing.
My take? Sometimes knowing that is okay. And maybe, just maybe, a first race is a first race. And after that you're on your own, baby.
And that. Well I guess that's called growing up.