Collecting the Pieces

I’ve hit a brick wall. On a scale of pleasant to dreadful, my running has been off the charts bad. I hate judging it this way, but the pure fact stands out that I know how good my running can feel and have consistently experienced quite the opposite lately. It defeats me.

So, I’ve shoved it into a distant corner to collect dust. What a way to deal with life, huh?

And truly, what does that say about me in this moment? In almost seven years, this is the first six-month stretch of suffering. In all of my running, 93% of the time it has been wonderful. If I can run a marathon, why can’t I push through this 7%?

Being human in this life experience is a bitch sometimes.

If I know one thing in life, I know myself. I am fearless, resilient, hopeful, and always ready for a challenge. Perhaps it’s the altitude, the move, being out of shape, or another excuse? These things have never stopped me in the past. I am a runner, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to continue to let this experience dim what has been such a light in my life.

I’m angry. Hurt. Sad. Ashamed at how much I’ve avoided this and shoved it away. But I am ready to forgive myself and move on.

I’m ripping the band-aid off at a half marathon tomorrow for which I’m desperately undertrained, but you had better believe I’m going to do it with a marathoner’s mindset and a smile.

It’s okay to really dig into the bad parts, to experience them fully and just feel. Without them we would have no basis to appreciate the amazing moments that life brings.

So truly, what does that say about me in this moment?

Desert Love Letter

Sand...tiny little rocks. Small sediment and layers of time, slowly swirled into the contours of the canyons. I gaze in wonder at the sharp towers, the steep walls, and the smooth plateaus. Such intricate patterns, carved over time and preserved just for this moment - this contact, soul to soul.

I recognize this landscape.

It’s the smoothness of time sifting through our hands, falling out of reach. The rocky pillars, building up with the silent winds of personal pressure, until we can no longer navigate the caves of our inner voice. The strong boulders falling, forcing us to shift. The sweltering heat of high noon that sends us searching for shelter.

But it’s also the hope in the slight crack of the first light of dawn. The singular bud on a tiny cactus, promising to bloom tomorrow. The sand between my toes, scraping off the skin that no longer serves my body. And the slowly stacked cairns guiding our way. That is, if we can spot them.