Thursday, December 29, 2011

5K Stuff

My thoughts are scattered, I have been working on getting my thoughts down for over a month now, but I have to share what I have, before my memory gets hay. So here goes my 5K tale.

Basic statistics first. I went to the 5K, I got my t-shirt, I ran and walked, and I finished the 5K. And most importantly to me, I was not last. :D This is all good stuff. Woohoo, go me, and all that.

At the beginning of the race, my sisters decided to walk the whole thing together. My mom and I were going to run and walk together. About 200 yards into the race, I had to stop and just walk. But, my mom kept going. She never stopped running the whole race. I didn’t see her again until after the race. While I am extremely proud of her for being able to run the whole thing without walking or stopping, I felt abandoned. I felt sad. I didn’t like that feeling. I hated the feeling of being alone, while everybody else passed my by. I didn’t like it at all. And I almost felt angry about it. Not so much angry at my mom, but angry at myself. Angry that I had to stop and walk. Angry that I hadn’t worked out enough to be able to run myself. I was annoyed at my mom because she had claimed she hadn’t been working out either. And because she said that she was going to have to walk and run. But I was mad at myself for not being good enough. 

And there I go again, “not good enough.”  This is a constant struggle for me, my weight and level of fitness are not an indicator of my moral compass.  My being unable to run the entire 3.3 miles is no indication on whether I am a good person or not. It truly isn’t. But I turn there over and over again. I may still be heavy. I may not be very fit. I may have a low tolerance for exercise. But I am a good person. I am NOT evil or bad. I am worth it to keep trying. 

After walking for awhile in my own self-pity, I decided to slow way down and wait for my sisters A and H. A had knee surgery this year, and H has struggled with her weight for years. I was so proud of them for participating in the run with us. So I walked with them for awhile, mentally beating myself up, and whining that my mom had run on ahead. After awhile, I thought to myself, “why am I upset that she kept going at her own pace? Why does it bother me that she didn’t hold herself back for me? This is ridiculous!” So, once I caught my breath, and mended my pride, I decided to take things at my own pace. Was I doing this for my mom, or with my mom? Or was I doing it for myself? What do I preach all the time? Don’t do this for anybody but yourself. You are the only one you can count on, and if you are relying on others to accomplish your dreams, then you are going to fail. So I tucked it in and started jogging a bit. I jogged until I got tired, and then I walked a bit. Then I picked up the pace, and jogged on again. I finished the race that way. I jogged and I walked, as I needed to. I quit caring about what other people thought. I quit thinking about who was with me or not, and I just got down to business. 

I finished the race, crossed that finish line. I thought I would be so excited, so proud of myself, and just feel good. But I didn't. In fact, I felt let down.  I felt like the only reason I felt any measure of relief or 'happiness,' was just because it was over and I didn't have to do it anymore. I was just so glad to be done.

And then I turned to cheer my sisters on.  What can I say, we have all been heavy at some point in our lives. My sister A had knee surgery this year. My sister H has struggled with weight-issues for a long time. But they participated in the 5K this year too.  And when I saw them running/jogging the last bit of the race, I started to cheer louder, I started to cry and weep. Because THEY did it.
I don’t know why I don’t feel excited about what I did. I just feel rather numb about it. Kind of let down even. It’s frustrating, because I worked hard for this, and I finished, and I wasn’t last, and I finished in under an hour (56 minutes and some-odd seconds).

But, even though I don’t feel all that accomplished in myself, I do feel celebratory about my sisters finishing. I do feel excitement, and joy, that they were able to participate, and finish. They also finished under an hour, and they too were not last. And so I have decided to celebrate their win, to bask in their glow, and to hope that maybe next time, I will have figured out what it is I missed last time so I can really celebrate my finish.

Until next time . . .