Month: May 2018

“You do not appreciate how far you have come.”

That pretty much sums up this week (while also being one of the biggest understatements of my life). Damn this week was an emotional rollercoaster.

Monday, I had a timed mile workout–since the next big goal is Liberty Mile and the challenge that started this whole thing–we needed to get a baseline for where I am at this point in my training. And the results were decent–9:10, about 45 seconds faster than Liberty Mile last year. Not what I personally had hoped for (I was hoping for sub-9) but not terrible. And I definitely gave my all–I had 2 more miles after that to do and my calves were TOAST after that mile…I walked a LOT of the next mile trying to get my legs back under me, which frustrated me, but again, is what it is. I guess the seeds of what would come later were planted in this workout.

Tuesday was unremarkable. Solid workout at the gym. Wednesday, however, was a big old mess. I was in a bad headspace. Still kinda miffed at my performance on Monday, my brain went back to the half and I was pissed that I missed that goal. Then I looked at my tempo workout for that day and instantly felt defeated–I just knew I couldn’t do it. I frequently look at my workouts and know it’s going to be a stretch–but that’s the POINT. If I don’t go for things that seem just slightly out of my reach I won’t improve. I get there by going for it. But in that moment, this workout felt impossible and I spent all day worrying about it and when it was time to execute I fell apart. I *couldn’t* do it. I couldn’t get myself anywhere *close.* The wheels came off. I literally stopped and cried on the trail at one point. It was as though every negative thought I’ve ever had about myself was presenting itself for duty during that run (and given my general tendency to be overly self-critical…this is no small feat). I got through it and got 5 miles in, nowhere near what I wanted or what they should have been but done and on the books no less.

I went home and tried to talk it out with my BRF, or more accurately, I lost my shit and he tried to give me perspective and talk me down. It didn’t really work. I went to bed hoping some sleep would hit the re-set button and I’d feel better in the morning. It did, a little. I was able to be a little more objective about the run. Sent my coach a list of the things I thought went wrong. I spent the day being more gentle with myself and trying to give myself the grace and space to work through these feelings.

It all comes back to the deeper issues of the dissonance I’ve been talking about. I don’t see myself as I am, I see myself as I was and I compare that with what I think I *should* be. And that chasm–invisible though it might be–causes me a lot of distress. When I’m upset about anything, my instinct is to turn that inward and beat myself up–my run wasn’t bad for these 5 external reasons, my run was bad because I’M not good enough. I’m weak, lazy, slow, and fat. The things I’ve always written myself off as and tried like hell to show I’m not. My logical brain realizes that none of these things are true. I am very much a work in progress, but none of the insults I hurl at myself, the things I’ve said since I was a teenager, are true. I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am–personally, professionally, as a runner–and I’m quick to discount all of that the second something doesn’t play out the way I want it to.

I gave myself space on Thursday to process, to recover, to be. And that helped. I went to bed early and was in a much better frame of mind when I got up on Friday. Had a really great workout on Friday night, and a great run on Saturday morning. Sat around after the run drinking coffee and having breakfast with some of my friends. The subject at one point turned to weight loss–as women and runners something we all have at least some experience with. Old pictures started to surface. I pulled up one of my most-striking:

Wow. I’d never have realized that was you. Which strikes me as odd because that’s basically how I see myself. Intellectually, I get it. Intellectually, I know better. But my self-image is that I’m still 200 pounds…It may not be who I see in the mirror, but it’s who I see in my head. Hard, concrete, irrefutable evidence is starting to chip away at this fallacy. I had a good dose of that over the weekend. Those moments that make you go “Fuuuuuuuuuuuck” because you realize that you’ve been really wrong this whole time. I consciously recognized this weekend how far I’ve come. Not just the lip service of posting old running workouts to Facebook comparing them to more recent ones, not just a ‘transformation Tuesday’ insta post that’s hard for me to look at. But actually, consciously, realizing that I’ve been flat out WRONG about myself and that there are things I need to stop saying to myself to get out of that headspace. Denial is a big part of dissonance, especially in my case. After so much evidence presents you can’t deny any longer and I’m hitting that point.  Baby steps. Inching ever closer to my goals and the person I want to be.

 

Lots more to say, but for now it’s time to get to work. More soon.

Definition of dissonance

1a : lack of agreement

• the dissonance between the truth and what people want to believe; especially : inconsistency between the beliefs one holds or between one’s actions and one’s beliefs — compare cognitive dissonance

From <https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/dissonance>

This story started years ago, before I started running, but it’s only grown and changed shape over the years. I’ve talked about it before, it’s hardly new (see this post and this post  among who knows how many others) but it’s the internal struggle I keep coming back to, and I think I’m making some headway after this weekend.

I’ve been training. Hard. Part of why I haven’t been writing as much, I suppose. Speed work, cross training, strength training, core work, tempo runs, long runs, recovery work…I love every minute of it, but the grind isn’t that exciting (if you follow my Instagram at all, I’m sure you probably realize this). My hard work is paying off though–I’m stronger, fitter, faster–all the things I wanted.

The Pittsburgh Half Marathon was my second big goal race for the year. I wanted to break 2:15–a steep goal, considering my previous PR (on this same course) was 2:26:49. Pittsburgh has always been my PR course. I’ve run 19 half marathons as of this weekend and all of my PRs have come at Pittsburgh. It’s not an easy course, but I love it. I prefer challenging courses. And I put in the work. I felt confident going into the race. And it started off great. No pacers in sight, but I managed to hold back for the first mile and not sprint out of the gate like an idiot. I felt good, I felt strong. Then I hit the back half of the course. My second gel sat in my stomach like a rock. The humidity was suffocating and I wished the rain we were anticipating would just come along already. I struggled through the south side and Birmingham bridge (which feels less like a bridge and more like you’re running on the parkway). I saw my goal slipping away. I fought but couldn’t keep my pace. Mile 11 was the worst. Then I saw the sign for Mile 12. I looked at my watch. It was a long shot. Super long. I accepted it was probably not going to happen. But I wanted to see how close I could get. So I dug in. While it helps that the last mile is mostly downhill, I still grunted and groaned and I worked to get there. My goal slipped away but I kept pushing until I got across the finish line. 2:17:44. Not my goal, but a 9-minute PR.

And that last mile is where our story really begins.

That decision to dig in and go for it is where it starts. Last year I wouldn’t have done that. Last year I *didn’t* do that. I would see I wasn’t going to hit my goal and I would half-ass the rest of the race. I’d manage a PR but not what I could’ve done. But I didn’t do that. I didn’t back off–I dug in. My last mile was my fastest of the whole race because as much as I struggled before that, I wasn’t ready to give up on myself and phone it in. And when I think about this race, that is what I’m most proud of. I didn’t hit my goal, but that doesn’t matter. The 9-minute PR is awesome, but it’s a side-effect of the larger point–I DIDN’T QUIT. I dug deep and I fought and I EARNED that. That’s what brings me to tears–the fact I could’ve given up, the way I have so many times before, and I didn’t. I cried a couple of times on my way home from the race, and in fact, I’m tearing up now.

Which brings me back to the start of this post–dissonance. I have been wrestling with it hardcore lately. My BRF asked me this morning how I felt. Physically? A little sore. Not too bad, but enough to remind me that I didn’t just run yesterday, but I actually *raced*. Emotionally? Wrecked. Somewhere between really proud of how it all went down and pissed at myself for missing my goal. He told me to stop, to be proud of myself and proceeded with a fantastic pep talk that did in fact leave me in tears before I went into work. I wish I could’ve taken today off. Races have become so emotional for me lately and it’s all because of the dissonance–as my BRF said, it’s the war between my heart that wants to be happy and proud of my accomplishments, and my brain that doesn’t want to accept it. Your heart, he said, is winning.

He’s right. I’m struggling so much because I still haven’t been able to let go of who I’ve always told myself I am, and who I think of myself as. The more evidence I have that that person *isn’t* actually me, the harder it gets. My brain doesn’t want to be wrong, so it fights. You’re fat, you’re lazy, you’re weak, you’re slow. Built for distance, not for speed. You don’t look like a runner. The cacophony echoes in my head, as it has for years, listing the reasons why I’m not good enough, and never will be.

Bullshit.

Actual evidence suggests that none of that is true. Some of it *might* have been at one point in time, but it isn’t true now. The arguments of my brain have less and less to stand on because the evidence contradicts. And I still have a lot of emotional work to do to release the baggage of who I thought myself to be, but a big hurdle was not quitting on myself yesterday and how incredibly proud of that I am. I met with my coach tonight, and moving into this next training cycle I’m chasing big scary goals I never gave myself permission to consider before. Things I would’ve written off as impossible–but they aren’t. Easy? No, but nothing worth having ever is. Will I reach them? Eventually. Maybe not in the original time line, but maybe I will…I won’t know if I don’t go for it. What I do know is that I’m so excited to try. I’m still trying to figure out who this person is, the one I’ve never given myself permission to be, but so far I kind of dig her and I’m excited to see what she can do.

More soon…