Ever.
I’ve got two 5K races under my belt, but all of a sudden she thinks I should do a 10K! Yeah. Um. That’s double the distance. Six point two miles of road. Might as well be a marathon.
See, my trainer really, really, really wants me to do this race in April with her and since I’m such a wuss about committing to do it, she thought she needed to build my confidence up or something. She kept telling me, “I think you just need to know that you can do it. Prove to yourself that you can cover the distance.” So I agreed to go for a 6.2 mile run with her on Saturday.
What was I thinking???
The weather was supposed to be terrible that day. Lucky for us, we decided to go out early in the morning. So at 9:30 when she knocked at my door, I was almost ready to go. As usual, I was running around grabbing my gloves and earmuffs and other last minute things that I always seem to never leave enough time to do. We exited my house about 5 minutes later while my husband stood in his pajamas, cooking bacon and eggs for himself and the kids to enjoy. Why, oh why, was I leaving this bacon-scented haven to trudge through mounds of snow and ice in freezing weather? It was 15 degrees outside. Did ya catch that? Yes. I said 15 degrees. Let me tell ya, that is cold. The big white beast of a landscape was looming at me like it was Mount Everest. We were gonna do a loop…3.1 miles out, 3.1 miles back and she promised me I could do some walking too. That’s really the only way she got me to agree to this cockamamie idea….the promise of short bursts of walking. We ran the first two miles and then after that, we alternated ½ mile walk breaks with running. And in case you think I’m exaggerating about my trainer being evil…here’s a little taste of our conversation while we ran. I’ll set it up for ya: she was telling me about how she was subbing for a game with her old soccer team over the weekend. And she then continues on to say, “So, I’m looking around for who I’m gonna target to torture for the game. You know, I like to pick on one person and just torment them…” I just burst out laughing while I’m leaping over ice and stomping through the snow on our run. Here’s this quiet, cute little runner girl, just casually talking about how she likes to relentlessly torture a specific opponent during a soccer game...Running them down, bashing through them, hovering around them while they have the ball. Yeah. And I’m letting this person train me. Ugh. What have I gotten myself into?
By the end of mile 4, I was really feeling it. And by it, I mean the pain. My hips were sore. It was hard for me to breathe. I was really working. But, my friend (aka evil trainer), had the right idea. Because I can honestly say she pushed me and gave me something you just can’t put a price on: pride. She gave me a boost of confidence and she made feel proud. As we were heading back and nearing the end of our run, she pointed out to me that I had just covered more distance than I ever have before. I gotta admit…that brought a pretty big smile to my face. I even managed to run strong (sore hips and all) the entire last mile. (Even though it seemed to be all up-hill!) I coaxed myself through that last torturous mile by fantasizing about rewarding myself with donuts after one of my next big runs. Mmmm…donuts…
We finished in exactly 86 minutes. No Olympic record there. But my trainer’s goal for me was to finish it in under 90 minutes (allowing for the walking) and I did! It was an amazing feeling. I actually covered the distance. About an hour later, the snow came. And I mean SNOW. We got about 8 to 10 inches of the fluffy white stuff. And I happily and lazily watched it fall while I sipped my coffee and sported my fuzzy, cheetah print slippers from inside the warmth of my bacon-scented house, knowing that I tackled that beast outside and won.
Pride. Confidence.
We all need a little taste of it once in a while. Sometimes they come from the most unusual experiences. You don’t always have to win the race or get the promotion or sell the manuscript to taste it. Sometimes, it comes in the form of an 86 minute journey. Don’t be afraid of climbing your Mount Everest. Try what you think you can’t do. Whether it’s trying scallops for the first time (ick – I just recently experienced that horror) or talking to that person you’ve been too nervous to approach, or walking your first mile on the treadmill. When you accomplish it, the feeling is indescribable. Tackling your beast churns out a feeling of pride and joy that swells bigger than you can imagine. Embrace it however you can. You deserve it.
And I promise you from the top of my donut-dreaming head to the very bottom of my fuzzy, cheetah print slippers – you won’t regret it.
Here’s to tackling your one of your beasts this week! I can't wait to hear about it!
Julie