run. pray. - Being Thankful Heals Sick Roots
Blog Challenge Day 3: (For Day 1 click here. For Day 2 click here.)
What do people thank you for?
When I first sat down to answer this question, it was difficult for me to write. I heard when people thanked me, but I couldn't name specific events they thanked me for. The deeper I dug and more reflective I became I realized the specific events or things didn't matter as much. What mattered most was the fact that people just appreciated my time.
People thank me for being there and actively listening. People thank me for encouraging and motivating them. People thank me for being a non-judgmental sound board for venting. People thank me for helping them in all sorts of of ways-for taking time from my day to be there for them. People thank me for sharing my story, opinions, ideas, thoughts, and passions-honestly and with rawness. People thank me for stepping outside myself to truly be there for them, not just on a physical level, but on an emotional level and a spiritual level. People thank me for being authentically loving and kind-for sharing my heart-for being authentically me.
Blog Challenge Day 4
What's one thing you're proud of?
When I rewind through life memories a lot of proud moments stand out from having a poem published in the local newspaper in eighth grade to graduating high school and college to breaking free of depending on my mom for everything, to opening myself up to fall in love to getting married to surviving deaths of loved ones to bungee jumping. But, one adventure is calling to be told right now. My first half marathon.
In 2010, after a participating in a couple long distance cycling challenges, I signed up for my first half marathon. A peer told me about Team in Training during my cycling trip. When I arrived home, in South Carolina, I researched Team in Training and found a local chapter. I signed up right away.
I began training during my second year of teaching and on top of training I had to raise several thousand dollars for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. As if being a special education teacher wasn't challenging enough, it was my formal evaluation year, and I had to pass my evaluations in order to gain my professional teaching license. It was stressful, and I was slowly falling in love with my husband. So, there was a lot going on.
When I started training, I was about 30 pounds heavier than my present weight. I'm 5'7 and at the time of this adventure I weighed close to 175 pounds. So, I wasn't morbidly obese, but I was overweight and far, far from healthy. I ate tons of processed foods and drank like a fish. During this time, I was slowing becoming more aware of how broken my heart and spirit were and how unhealthy my emotional and spiritual roots were. Though, at the time, I appeared happy and convinced myself that I was happy, I was far from happy. In reality, I was absent, absorbed, and unconscious.
Jerry was my mentor during training. He inspired me. Jerry was (and still is) a cancer survivor. His story is incredible, and his story made me realize just how surface level my existence was. His story and struggles made mine appear microscopic. Listening to him talk about his battle and seeing him so alive, like there's this aura that shines around him, made me realize how dead I really was. This deadness made spending three and four hours of running with myself extremely taxing and burdensome. Luckily, Jerry and Jim were there for the training runs to distract me from myself. And, I was able to distract them a little too with all my teaching stories (really they were student stories).
After months of training, the marathon weekend was here. My mom went with me to Orlando, and I was a train wreck. Adrenaline hit as soon as I walked into the expo and got my race packet. I looked at my bib and started shaking. I started questioning my decision making skills. But, the night before the race I was sitting in the Team in Training pasta supper and while listening to the speakers I really felt outside myself. I was so proud to be participating in something so much bigger than me. I remember trying as hard as I could to hold back tears, because I didn't think I belonged in a room containing all of these amazing people, yet I was so proud of myself for having made it there.
What do people thank you for?
When I first sat down to answer this question, it was difficult for me to write. I heard when people thanked me, but I couldn't name specific events they thanked me for. The deeper I dug and more reflective I became I realized the specific events or things didn't matter as much. What mattered most was the fact that people just appreciated my time.
People thank me for being there and actively listening. People thank me for encouraging and motivating them. People thank me for being a non-judgmental sound board for venting. People thank me for helping them in all sorts of of ways-for taking time from my day to be there for them. People thank me for sharing my story, opinions, ideas, thoughts, and passions-honestly and with rawness. People thank me for stepping outside myself to truly be there for them, not just on a physical level, but on an emotional level and a spiritual level. People thank me for being authentically loving and kind-for sharing my heart-for being authentically me.
Blog Challenge Day 4
What's one thing you're proud of?
When I rewind through life memories a lot of proud moments stand out from having a poem published in the local newspaper in eighth grade to graduating high school and college to breaking free of depending on my mom for everything, to opening myself up to fall in love to getting married to surviving deaths of loved ones to bungee jumping. But, one adventure is calling to be told right now. My first half marathon.
In 2010, after a participating in a couple long distance cycling challenges, I signed up for my first half marathon. A peer told me about Team in Training during my cycling trip. When I arrived home, in South Carolina, I researched Team in Training and found a local chapter. I signed up right away.
I began training during my second year of teaching and on top of training I had to raise several thousand dollars for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. As if being a special education teacher wasn't challenging enough, it was my formal evaluation year, and I had to pass my evaluations in order to gain my professional teaching license. It was stressful, and I was slowly falling in love with my husband. So, there was a lot going on.
When I started training, I was about 30 pounds heavier than my present weight. I'm 5'7 and at the time of this adventure I weighed close to 175 pounds. So, I wasn't morbidly obese, but I was overweight and far, far from healthy. I ate tons of processed foods and drank like a fish. During this time, I was slowing becoming more aware of how broken my heart and spirit were and how unhealthy my emotional and spiritual roots were. Though, at the time, I appeared happy and convinced myself that I was happy, I was far from happy. In reality, I was absent, absorbed, and unconscious.
Jerry was my mentor during training. He inspired me. Jerry was (and still is) a cancer survivor. His story is incredible, and his story made me realize just how surface level my existence was. His story and struggles made mine appear microscopic. Listening to him talk about his battle and seeing him so alive, like there's this aura that shines around him, made me realize how dead I really was. This deadness made spending three and four hours of running with myself extremely taxing and burdensome. Luckily, Jerry and Jim were there for the training runs to distract me from myself. And, I was able to distract them a little too with all my teaching stories (really they were student stories).
After months of training, the marathon weekend was here. My mom went with me to Orlando, and I was a train wreck. Adrenaline hit as soon as I walked into the expo and got my race packet. I looked at my bib and started shaking. I started questioning my decision making skills. But, the night before the race I was sitting in the Team in Training pasta supper and while listening to the speakers I really felt outside myself. I was so proud to be participating in something so much bigger than me. I remember trying as hard as I could to hold back tears, because I didn't think I belonged in a room containing all of these amazing people, yet I was so proud of myself for having made it there.
The day of the race was nerve racking. It was a night race and started at 10 p.m. I questioned every action and decision I made that day. Should I be eating this? Should I be walking around in the heat this much? Should I be taking a nap? Should I be doing this or that? What made it even more nerve racking was Jerry and Jim weren't there to distract me during the race. I was on my own. There were other Team in Training members there, and they distracted me in the beginning and got me pumped up for the start, but they weren't there long once it started. 13.1 miles alone with 40,000 other runners-yet I've never felt so alone in my life.
The race was as difficult as I had anticipated. It was hot. It was humid. I wasn't nice to myself. I wanted to quit. I hated the Disney characters who seemed so happy while I was totally miserable. And, as much as I repeated, "This is fun. You're having fun," it didn't make a difference. Then, there was this wave of guilt. "You should be thankful you can do this. People are suffering from cancer and dying and would love to be able to get outside and just walk." Emotional. Roller. Coaster.
Then, around mile ten, I got physically ill. I was so worried about getting dehydrated that I drank too much liquid and could feel it sloshing in my stomach. I tried distracting myself by taking pictures of the mile markers and those damn happy Disney characters. It didn't work. I'd walk and run and walk and run and walk and run. I didn't think I was going to make it.
Out of nowhere, I recognized the resort we were staying at and realized I was less than a mile away from the finish line. A Team in Training coach (from another chapter outside South Carolina) must have seen my shirt and puke face and agonizing pain, because he stepped out of the crowd of spectators and started jogging beside me. He kept telling me I could do this and assured me the finish line was just around the corner. He even told me I was doing a good job. He ran alongside me until I spotted my mom's face just yards from the finish line. I was able to muster up a smile and tell the man thank you. My mom's prideful face and my inner "Jerry" pushed me across the finish line. As Minnie Mouse went in for a hug, I violently shook my head no, threw my hands out to push her aside, and ran off to the grass dry heaving.
Once I composed myself, I found the teammates I had started with, and we had to stand in the longest and HOTTEST line ever to get our medals and checked bags. The problem with this wasn't only the HEAT, but the longer I stood upright the sicker I felt. Eventually, I retrieved my things, found my mom, and parked it on a bench. I gave my mom and her friend my wine and food tickets and hunkered down at the bathrooms while they Wine and Dined around Epcot.
On our walk back to the resort (yes, I had to WALK to the resort after all this), I felt all that sloshing liquid finally making its way up. There was a Mickey Mouse bush to my right...poor Mickey. Let's just say I felt really bad for the cleaning crew. However, once I left Mickey, I felt like a million bucks! Then, it hit me. I had finished the race. I pushed through the pain, the stomach ache, the negative self talk. I did it...all on my own with no one there to distract me. I survived it. I survived me. And, suddenly, this God awful experience turned into something fun, and before I knew it, I was signed up for another one.
Team in Training's half marathon training kick started my health journey. It didn't matter I had biked 750 miles in two weeks a year prior to this training. Or, that I had been a gym goer for years prior to this training. What mattered was I had won a battle with myself and the victory launched a brand new me-it fertilized and nurtured those unhealthy roots-feeding, healing, and restoring my spirit.
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