Word Press informed me today it’s my six year anniversary as a blogger.
Hard to believe this chronicle of my life still stands– I attempted to erase it once. Exes had commented, past friends were keeping tabs on me, fellow bloggers encouraged me. Thank you to those who have subscribed, followed, commented and encouraged this unrelenting literary journey! Some have left, but most have stayed. It’s edifying.
I went through a period of wanting my life without documentation.
My emerging narrative had no focus, I felt it was a waste of time. But as events unfolded, I found this humble blog to be a refuge.
I would write what I want, without censor or error by editors. Without deadlines.
This journey began as a public vow of accountability during Lent, to uphold my Catholicism and Lenten promises. To challenge me.
Six years ago, I was searching for meaning in a relationship with a man. I thought that was the dream I should chase. I thought my treasure would be in another’s heart– in the reflection of what he loved in me.
Now I have accepted loss in relationships that haven’t lasted. I wrote about some dates, and the struggles to combat loneliness and failed compatibility. But I kept the details away, not wanting to jinx something still evolving, nor preserve details of suitors who did not work out.
Now I have accepted uncertainty and blog when I feel compelled.
I am still restless, but have re-directed my energy. Now the relationship I feed is that with myself– and running is the mechanism driving me forth.
Now I have races and goals for which to train! The joy I find is in surpassing my doubts.
I seek my own approval, reward myself with courage.
I’m making plans without fear.
I’m still Catholic, but now I forgive myself easier. I don’t depend on Lent to hold me accountable to my own promises.
I allow myself to be human, faults and mishaps included. I enjoy Mass but it’s not the center of my life as it once was.
I’ve chosen to build my life around developing a routine of running. I’m struggling with rising early and getting to sleep early enough to maintain that schedule. But already, it’s bringing me peace.
I’ve signed up for training classes for an upcoming race, my first 10k with lots of hills. I’ve joined the local run club in my community. I’ve attended group runs. I’ve enlisted a running buddy to start soon. I’ve purchased running gear necessary. I’m learning to layer properly in differing weather so I can persevere.
I’ve also failed twice this week on something I consider major: I missed my training class Thursday, and slept through a group run this morning.
I’m worried because my next race has a time limit for me to qualify as a finisher– I usually need 1 hour and 30 minutes to run five miles. This race requires 1 hour and fifteen. I felt intimidated— but signed up anyway. Now that fee has been paid! I want that finisher’s medal.
Today as I ran, I pushed myself. I knew I had to wean my mileage and maintain it below a 15 minute mile. And I did, except for two short bouts of walking. I noticed my knees hurting by the end, 3.16 miles. But I don’t normally feel that when I’m running regularly.
Tomorrow morning I’m meeting someone from our running group early. I’ll go faster.
I’ll be the runner I know is within me.
I think I’ve found something special with running.
And it’s in every road, every time I put on my shoes.