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It is the season (say goodbye to the safety net)

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This week, I was on a mission to clear out my running gear. I have collected lots over the years, way more than any human could ever need. A friend at Crossfit said to me the other day “you must have a truly impressive acctivewear collection”. I do. And thank you for noticing. I’m not much of a collector generally. I’ll hold on to a few things for sentimental reasons, but mostly I’m totally okay with being completely brutal about getting rid of stuff. The only thing I can’t seem to throw away are books, wool and running clothes. which tells you all you need to know, really.

We are planning on getting some built ins put in after we’ve done a few other things around the house, so for now all of my clothes are in two chests. I have a running clothes chest and a normal clothes chest and the running clothes chest, is by necessity the much larger one.

I could spin myself a story about how I’m attached to my running clothes because of all the runs I’ve done in them, all the firsts, all the PBs, all the training hours. And that is true. I do tend to wear things down until I literally wear a hole through them or a seam comes undone. The few times I’ve fallen over, I’ve been far more upset about the tights I tore than the wound on my knee. But really I hold on to them as a security blanket for when I put on weight again. That’s what they are, insurance for down the track. Just in case.

It’s been nearly a year now. It might be time to say goodbye to my just in case safety net. I still don’t really know what size I am. I consistently buy things that are too big for me. I had to get my husband to check the bra size on the bra I was wearing on the weekend because I was about to buy a couple of bras that were a size too big for me. It takes the brain a long while to catch up is all.

I decided the only way I was going to be able to part with all of those running clothes would be to give them a new life. So I posted them all for free in the community group if people were willing to pay postage. And it makes me happy that all bits and pieces of my collection will be out tackling new runs and new PBs and new adventures. They are all in little piles around my office now, ready to be sent out. It puts me in the spirit of the season, and I might just start researching food to make tonight.

When I think about the last year, I think about how it was scary. But I was more scared to stay the same than I was to try. And although physically all the changes are there, emotionally I’m still carrying around a lot of baggage and it still weighs me down and tries to tell me what I should believe about myself. And maybe I can let just a little bit of that go, without a safety net.

If I could go back, what would I say?

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If I could go back and talk to myself as a beginning runner, what would I say?

Everything. Nothing.

I know it feels really hard now. Harder than you thought it would even. And the running isn’t even the hard bit. It’s hard enough to have people look at you in a shopping centre, let alone in running gear on the treadmill. Being seen is the hard part. I know it feels like it’s always going to be hard. And I know it feels like you have to fight your body to get it done. But what you don’t realise yet, is how hard your body is working for you right now and how much it will be capable of in the future, if you just believe in it even a little bit.

I know you think you are doing this because you get to eat more. And that’s okay, but eventually you will fall in love with it, for its own sake. I know it seems like you are slower to progress than everyone else you know. And it also seems like you are just never going to get any better. But that’s okay because you need to make peace with it. Improvements are motivating and amazing and fantastic, but don’t let them determine the magnitude of your joy in the simple act of running.

I won’t tell you about all of the things that you will find out about yourself along the way. That would spoil it. But I will tell you that you find pieces of yourself in running that you didn’t realise you had lost along the way. And when things get really tough and just living is maximum effort, it will give you something to hold on to when it feels like everything else is falling away from you.

Running will change your whole life, and I’m not talking about the external stuff. It will teach you that there is no greater pride or strength than knowing who you are.

I know right now it feels a bit like you are dying, but you are being reborn and one day, sooner than you think, running won’t feel like dying: it will feel like breathing.

I actively fight against feeling guilty

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One of the questions I got asked when I crowd-sourced 30 days of blog posts, was:

How do you run without feeling guilty about taking time away from your family?

And you know the truth is, I feel guilty all the time. But, I know that I’m feeling guilty because I’m conditioned to feel guilty. Not because I am doing anything wrong. I fight against that feeling of guilt. I turn it over in my mind, to see if there is any logic to it (there isn’t). I ask myself what is reasonable. I ask myself, if the shoe was on the other foot, how would I feel? I remind myself that my children will benefit from experiencing me as a whole person, not solely defined by what I do for them.

But I do a few practical things too. I mitigate the impact my running has on the family where I can. I get up early 4 mornings a week, so I get to do what I want to do. During the week it’s time that they are (mostly) sleeping. And on the weekend, I try to get it done nice and early too, so even on longer runs it doesn’t take much out of our Saturday.

I get to bed early. This way just because I choose to get up at arse o’clock I’m not a complete wreck at the end of the day and I’m still able to do all the things I need to do.

I have the hard conversations. This year, my daughter had a big melt down about me going away for a race. I asked her what she would have me do instead? And she said, “you could just stay home with us all the time”. And I could, of course. But I don’t want to. I asked her to think about what she was asking. Was that a fair thing to ask of anyone? I reminded her that I had a right to do things that I wanted to do and to live my life the way I wanted to and pursue my career the way I wanted to. And that she was going to have to get used to it, because that wasn’t going to change. She apologised but it’s an ongoing conversation we have, mostly because she doesn’t like change. But we are both making the best of it anyway.

I try not to internalise things. When you are going around fighting of guilt most of the time, it’s easy to take things as judgements that are never meant to be. So when my husband asks me how long my run is going to be on the weekend, I purposefully take it to mean he’s asking so he knows when to expect me home, not because he’s upset with the amount of time that I’m away.

I’m relatively certain that guilt is a conditioned response as a result of being a woman, raised in a culture where women are expected to do all of the housework, do all of the parenting, contribute to the household budget with paid work all while keeping the children screen free, sugar free and tantrum free while basking in the glow of how awesome motherhood is.

Running is my thing. It’s my thing that is not connected to me as a mother. It’s the thing that just belongs to me. It doesn’t have to make me a better mother for it to be worthwhile. It just has to matter to me.

So when you are feeling guilty, really ask yourself if it’s so outlandish to have time for yourself, to do the things that you care about. Because I really think that you deserve that. We all do.

A new kind of challenge

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This month, I’ve challenged myself to write every day for 30 days. One of the things I can find hard to balance is coaching time vs writing and creative time. And in a pinch, I’ll always pick coaching time because it’s more important. But this ‘reason’ is starting to sound to me a little bit more like an excuse so this month I wanted to prioritise writing, but also writing about the things that people care about.

So I’ve put the call out for ideas on what you want to hear from me and you can comment on this post if you’ve got a burning question or topic you’d like to me write about:

COFFEE. Coffee will definitely be a very important part of this month. But isn’t it every month? And I’m not at all worried by the fact that @OfficialSanta on Twitter informs me that there is only 8 weeks until Christmas.

I’ve had a bit of an emotional few days which kind of took me by surprise. We got a kitten on Saturday. I’d been keeping an eye out for awhile as we were coming into breeding season, but it all happened rather quickly and in the few days before she got here I was running around doing last minute kitten proofing.

In a few months, it will be 7 years since Morgan died. I had her put down on Piper’s due date. She was 17. And I’d had her since I was 14. Piper was two weeks late, so I spent the last two weeks of the pregnancy, with more grief than I had ever known and a deep guilt that Piper would somehow absorb the weight of my sorrow. She didn’t of course, she was such a happy baby and she cushioned all the bruised and broken parts in those first few months.

Even after nearly 7 years, I still miss her a lot. Sometimes I can go for a month or so without thinking about it, but then I’ll see an old photo and I’ll be back at square one. But the truth is I don’t ever want to stop missing her, because at this stage that’s the only part of the relationship I have left.

Since then, we’ve had other cats but we’ve had boy cats and I think in a way I’ve been able to compartmentalise things a bit better that way. And having had the new little girl kitten running around, well let’s just say I lost some compartmentalisation this week. It’s been good to feel the parts that had been closed off, being more open, but it’s been hard too.

And I can’t help but think that’s part of the reason why I have turned away from writing is the same, that it’s hard to allow yourself to be open like that. But you know, it hurts either way.

 

Rachel

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I always believed that Rachel would make it. Or maybe that’s just what I wanted to believe because the alternative was unimaginable. The first thing you hear people say when someone dies from cancer is ‘but they fought so hard’ as if it was so simple. Because you want it to be that simple. But it’s not true. And it’s not real. People can fight with every cell in their being and they can still die.

And even now, as I write about death, every time I even write the word it’s like my heart is being suffocated by the great weight of things that can’t be true, but still are. Rachel leaves behind her husband Tim and her three boys: Liam (13), Soren (8) and Lindsay (4). ‘Leaves behind’ is a cruel phrasing, as though she had a choice.

I can only hope that her absolute love for her beautiful family will be the bedrock that they can build on in years to come.

Just two weeks ago Rachel asked me about getting started with running again. That was Rachel. Fearless. Determined. Passionate. And inclusive. She wanted everyone included. In our community, Rachel was a friend, a coach, a mentor and a cherished part of our team.

” Rachel was my coach and gave me the confidence to achieve my dream. My love and thoughts are with the family.”

“Rachel was my running coach. Rachel’s support in that group and since then have made a difference to me – thank you Rachel for contributing to making my life better.”

The community wanted to do something for Rachel and her family, so this weekend we are doing a virtual 3km run in her honour because it was her favourite distance. And we are asking anyone who is able to donate to support her family in this difficult time. If you would like to meet up with others for your run, pop into the community group and see who is running in your area.

I hope that you will join us.