I’ve mentioned this in another post, but I’ve been running and training for a half marathon in May. At this point in training, most of my friends know and are probably sick of me talking/stressing about it. But I thought a post about why I decided to run this half marathon might be in order. I’ve never been the one to set goals that are in the realm of ”impossible”. I’m the safe player. I take risks…up to a point. I’m not a gambling person.
But more recently, maybe after I turned 25 or the month leading up to it, I’ve been taking more and more “risks” as defined by my “old” self. It may sound strange, but there was a moment of clarity when I realized that all the dreams I ever had for myself could only be accomplished if I started gambling – or more precisely, betting on myself. Because if I didn’t even believe I could accomplish something, then how would I ever start walking toward those goals? If I didn’t start betting on myself and my abilities I wouldn’t ever accomplish these things.
Deciding to run a half marathon was one of the first tangible things I decided to take action on with this clarity. There was something solid about a date in mind. There was something about the idea that I had to train, push myself beyond my comfort level, and actually see through a goal that drew me to it. I always defined myself as a runner, but until I started this training, it was said with a grin and shrug – I never wanted to really put myself in that category because I never felt like a true runner up to that point. Just an occasional jogger. It wasn’t until this morning when I woke up early, stretched while still yawning, and ran 2 miles in 10 degree weather that I let that crazy, calm, purposeful part of myself finally push that doubtful part away.
I’m still working through a lot of the doubts, the fear (how the hell will I get from 2 miles to 13.1???) and the discomfort, but I feel miles ahead of where I was 3 months ago. Nicole Antoinette put this perfectly in a post a few days ago, about getting comfortable being uncomfortable. This morning hasn’t been the only time that I pushed myself harder than I though I could. Just this last Monday, I had the longest possible day at work and a full night of freelance ahead of me, but I still got out and ran 3 miles and it sucked and hurt and was awesome at the same time, and when I was walking back to my apartment that clarity hit me again. I hadn’t wanted to do anything else when I got home but eat a damn hot dog and drink a beer, but I went for a 3 mile run and it felt f-ing good.
There are still a lot of hurdles ahead of me, like my 4.5 mile long run Sunday tomorrow, but I feel like the road isn’t as endless and that if I can do this, then I can do anything.
Have you ever pushed yourself beyond your comfort level and silenced the doubter inside?