One thing I know for sure is that most of us are our own worst enemy, at least I am. I am quick to forgive, very understanding of others and I have built my career around empathy. I am ruefully incompetent at using these qualities on myself.
This has led me to be overworked, injured, in pain and at times burnt out. I have put myself last on my own to do list for years. The first time I overdid it I became obsessed with reading self-help books. You know the Oprah Winfrey endorsed kinds that have you bare your soul and set impossible intentions for your enlightenment. These books can be good for some people but after reading my fifth or sixth one I became angry enough with the author’s insistence that there was something wrong with me that I stopped reading and threw the book across the room. There was nothing wrong with me other than my own impossible expectations.
Last year when I was feeling particularly sloth-like and lethargic I decided it was important that I take action for me. I needed to start taking better care of myself. Okay, that was a bold faced lie. I actually was also sick of the dog being crazy with nervous energy. In classic care-giver fashion someone else was the primary motivator. My dog needed more exercise. We were all going a little crazy with her constant fidgeting and pacing while we were trying to watch TV in the evening.
Last year we also had some family pictures done and I felt like I looked too “puffy” for my own comfort. Vanity is not one of the seven deadly sins that usually plagues me. I have been blessed with good metabolism and I am too lazy and cheap for make up and manicures.
For the most part I am pretty comfortable in my own skin but not after I saw those pictures. Aging is taking a toll on my resolve to remain natural. Wrinkles are creasing my skin, grey hair is sprouting quickly and my metabolism is slowing down. So I started to run.
Take control… Good idea, right? That’s what I thought, so I started training for my 10 km run. I trained hard and fast. My summer felt like a constant training program. I was either running or recovering from a run. This was supposed to be good for me.
A week before the race I went to my chiropractor because the stiffness I assumed was natural for someone running as much as I was, wasn’t in fact natural. My IT band was tearing. I ran for a month in almost constant pain assuming that this was part of pushing my training routine. In the end I was too injured to run the race I was training for. I trained for nothing.
Okay…maybe not nothing. I have always considered myself a runner. It was nice to actually start running to add some validity to the label. As is the case with my dog, I now recognize the nervous energy and clouded thinking that is easily cleared up with some fresh air and a pair of runners. Ask most runners and they will tell you it is addictive.
This year I have taken a whole new approach to running. I am preparing for my first half-marathon in almost 15 years. When I find myself getting frustrated by missed runs or a meandering pace I try to remind myself that I am good enough, irregardless of the outcome. This time I will cross the finish line with a few more wrinkles and a few more grey hairs but I will finish. I am good enough and I always have been. Sometimes I just forget.