Perspective

Sunday was the Branford Road Race.  I decided about a week ago that I was going to do it and registered.  As much as I fought the decision to run I knew I never really had a choice.  I needed to run the race to prove to myself that I am no longer that person who stands on the sidelines watching my life go by, wishing I was part of it.  I was instantly overwhelmed but being a spectator in your own life is even more overwhelming.  2011 is my year to not look back and “wish I had.”  Watching the Branford Road Race from the sidewalk would be my biggest “I wish I had”.

About 2 miles into the race I was exhausted.  I was tired from starting too fast, the mini hills, the humidity and the 2,000 other runners.  I needed to walk.  I was devastated.  This was what I was afraid of.  I knew I wasn’t a real runner.  I had been training so hard for this and had been able to run 4 solid miles without stopping.  I couldn’t believe I needed to take a walking break so soon.  I wanted to give up. You can’t do this. You’re tired already. It’s so hot and humid.  Just give up. Try again next year.  And honestly, I was letting the fear of coming in last creep in and get the best of me.  I was tired from all the pressure I had put on myself.

My friend Kelly went step for step with me every mile.  As hard as the voices worked to creep back in and tell me to quit, Kelly was there fighting them off at every hill and every turn.  She smiled, laughed and joked the entire way.  She was having a great time even though I held her back.  Her faith in me was unwavering.  Kelly kept telling me, “You can do this. You’ve got this.”  I kept going because I didn’t want to disappoint her, my family or all my friends who believe so strongly in me.  Everyone was so proud and excited that I was doing the race I couldn’t let them down. 

I realized that I planned to fail, or at the very least I set myself up to fail.  I built this race up so much in my head that unless I came in under 60 minutes and ran every step it was a failure.  I wasn’t allowing myself to enjoy the day, the route along the beach or the fact that I was doing something I had dreamed of.  I wasn’t being fair to myself or to my friends who drove so far and were only doing this race to support me.  I certainly wasn’t being fair to the friend who was throwing away her run to run by my side because she believed in me. 

Five miles of hard work is nothing in the grand scheme of life. Getting fit is a life decision.  Every day is filled with mental roadblocks.  I doubt myself constantly.  Fear, doubt and failure are all new concept to me.  As a fat person I was never afraid of failure.  It’s hard to fail if you never push yourself and when you do fail people are just so excited that you tried something.  Give the fat girl an “A” for getting off the couch!

Whether it is running or in a WOD, I often don’t believe that I can make it to the end because I get tired and I want to stop.  It’s easier to walk away by choice than to fail. I get frustrated when I can’t do something as well as everyone else.  I often want to give up because I think I have no energy left, that I have nothing more to give. But it’s not true.  I am stronger than I believe, both mentally and physically. I just have to continue believing it.  

So I went the distance.  I broke down those walls.  I just had to believe in myself.  I knew I couldn’t give up without a strong fight.  I had more left to give.  I wasn’t done yet. I wasn’t finished.  I just needed to get out of my own way. So I kept pushing forward, despite being tired, worn down, sore, and frustrated. I walked some, I ran some, and I just kept going.  I started to believe in myself. 

It only took me 4 miles and being passed by about 1,950 other runners to realize that I had so much more to give.  With my friends by my side and my family screaming from the sidelines, I crossed the finish line of the Branford Road Race at 1:09:40 (1:09:04 net time).  I was 10 minutes faster than I imagined I would be.  It was awesome.

Honestly, the race was so much harder than I had expected.  There were so many factors beyond my control that I wasn’t ready for.  I was discouraged for a lot of the race and wasn’t as proud as I should have been.  I focused on all my failures rather than celebrating my success but in the past few days I have gained some perspective.  My time doesn’t matter.  Running at a snail’s pace doesn’t matter. Walking some of the race doesn’t matter.  Last doesn’t matter.  The only thing that matters is that I finished. 

I have come so far in these past 6 months and the BRR is a fantastic milestone.  It was a great way to celebrate the six month anniversary of my fit new life.  I didn’t run it perfectly but just like trying to get fit, it’s not perfect, I cannot do everything perfectly every day.  These kinds of expectations will put me on a road to sure failure.  The Branford Road Race was just like this journey.  Neither were where I want or need to be, but I am such much further than I have ever been.  

The first time I ran around the MCCF building I couldn’t do it without stopping and walking.  Once around is only 200M (1/8 mile) and Sunday I “ran” 5 miles.  I used to have to catch my breath if I carried my son down the hall to bed or walked up stairs.  Today I can deadlift 230 lbs.  I have lost 51lbs but I have gained so much more.  I am happier.  I am healthier.  I am stronger.  I completed a race I dreamed about doing for so many years.  I didn’t come in last but the person that did come in last finished it too.  We did it and we should be proud!  Next year we will do it better, I will gain some more perspective and I will smile the whole time.

I Am a Crossfitter

Every night before a WOD I have a compulsive need to check the website the to see what the workout is going to be.  Whether I am going in the morning or not, I cannot go to bed until I know what the Workout of the Day will be.  Many nights, I have found myself fighting sleep until the WOD appears after hitting refresh incessantly for a good 15 minutes.  Obsessive?  Insane?  Slightly.  But I’m not alone.

When I checked the website Friday the WOD was “Whitten.”  22 kettlebell swings, 22 box jumps, 400m run, 22 burpees, 22 wall balls.  It didn’t look so bad and I was actually excited about doing it.  I didn’t realize it was five times.  Once seemed fun but 5X?!?  That’s 110 of each.  110 burpees.  110 burpees! 

I knew this WOD was going to be long and hard and would take everything I had.  We were all given the option of cutting in half.  I knew I didn't want to do the junior version but wasn't sure I could do the entire thing.   I made a deal with myself that if I went a full three rounds and was exhausted I could stop there.  I knew if I could do the three rounds I would be happy because that would be more than the half version and if I gave it everything than that would have to be good enough.  I've never quit in the middle of a WOD but completing “Whitten” was sure death.

Just a few minutes into my first set of burpees I could already feel my resolve weakening.  The WOD was harder than I imagined and it was hot, really hot.  By the time I got to my second 400m run my knees were aching, my body was tired and my head felt like it had its own heartbeat.    I had to stop running and walk just to catch my breath.  Three rounds felt out of reach, the five rounds were not even going to be an option for me.

We had two guests at our box Friday night.  These two athletes were impressive.  You looked at them and knew there was no hesitation for them with this WOD.  They were the elite among the elite.  Going in I felt intimidated working out with them but once the clock started all I could focus on was each set, one at a time.  No one else was there, no one else mattered.

With as much running as I have been doing the 400m run around the building is still my nemesis.  No matter how hard I try, I cannot find a pace and I struggle going around the corners.  The switch from gravel to pavement to dirt throws me off every time.  All silly things but they get in my head and make it hard for me to run the 400m.

I was exhausted as I headed into the run of only the second round.  I slowed my run around the corner and started to walk.  I was too tired to run; this WOD was getting the best of me. 

I was questioning if I could get through the next set of burpees and then get though another full round.  “Pick up your feet and run, even if it’s a slow jog you run.”  One of the visiting Crossfitters came sprinting upon me, “We don’t walk at Crossfit.  You’re not a Crossfitter if you walk” and he sprinted away, barely breaking a sweat.

To say I was pissed was an understatement.  Who the hell did he think he was, coming into my box and telling me I’m not a Crossfitter?  He doesn’t know what I can or can’t do!  He doesn’t know me!  He doesn’t know me.  I stopped walking and ran, it was slow and painful, I could barely catch my breath, but I ran.  I finished that lap and ran the next one too.  I finished the third round and kept going.  I vomited twice but I kept going.  I truly didn’t think I could finish but I did.  I did all 5 rounds.  I am a Crossfitter.  I may not do the WOD as fast as some (ok, the majority) but I am doing the same WOD.  Don’t tell me I am not a Crossfitter.   You don’t know me.  I will take your words and think about them every day.  They will drive me and push me until I cannot give anymore and then I will give some more.   That’s what makes me Crossfit.

I thought about this as I was running yesterday.  It made me push myself harder.  I joke that it only took me a ¼ mile of self loathing to find my pace.  It usually takes at least a mile.  One mile, whether it feels long or goes by fast, I can come up with a million excuses in my head about why I shouldn’t finish it or why I should just walk.  I’m too tired.   I’m not fast enough so why bother, just walk.  I don’t have any energy left.  It’s too humid.  One mile is good enough.

My second mile felt good too.  I actually had a pace and my breathing wasn't too labored.  I ran two strong miles.  I could see the stop sign about ¼ mile ahead of me.  I knew when I got there I would have to make a choice.  Going left would mean running 4 miles.  Going right would mean the 2 were good enough.  What’s good enough?  Running 2 miles instead of the four I need to do?  Two solid miles is good.  Completing three rounds in a WOD instead of the five?   It was the hardest WOD I have ever done.  Three full rounds are good.  I am a Crossfitter.  I am not good enough.  I need to be better than that.

Being fat is easy and comfortable.  Everything you do is good enough.  Getting fit and living the life I want is hard, it’s mentally exhausting.  It’s about breaking down all my walls every day.  These walls get in my way of running faster, lifting more and being stronger on the inside and out.   If I am going to do this than I need to give it everything I have and never accept “good enough.” 

I turned left.  Good enough can no longer be good enough.  I am a Crossfitter.  Thank you for reminding me.