On Trying Something New
SOOooo, by way of reporting back...I totally finished the 10km walk/run that I had signed up for over the weekend.
I didn't keel over, half-conscious, or even cry! Well, I kind of did cry at the beginning, but that was because we were talking about my sister (who passed away at cancer's hand almost 4 months ago), so that's different. We wrote her name on our backs to match her name permanently etched on our hearts, and off we ran.
And, you guys: I tell you this next part NOT to impress you, or anything like that...I tell you because I think there's a really important lesson here...one that I learned, and learned well this weekend.
It wasn't nearly as hard as I expected it to be.
I don't know if it was because I was running with lots of other people, or if it was the supportive environment, or the beautiful scenery (hello, Rockies!), or a new route to run, or WHAT. But it went just fine. It was tough sometimes, and after running it I was sore and stiff for the next day or two...but I did better than I expected, and most importantly: it was downright FUN. Fun! Who knew, right?
I joked about crying face-down on the pavement...(I like to make jokes and caricature-ize my fears to deal with things that are hard for me)...but I actually was fairly certain that this was going to be next. to. impossible. I had trained a little, and worried a lot. I had even taken care to eat really well and try to get better sleep than usual, because that sure couldn't hurt my chances. And when you're pretty sure you're about to humiliate yourself, motivation to at least soften the blow, if you can, kicks in a bit. To sum up: I was totally psyching myself out.
But when the moment came for me to actual do "the impossible"...I found I was capable, and it was quite "possible," and that was that. Aaaaand therein lies the lesson.
I had almost talked myself out of doing something pretty important, something I wanted...but wasn't sure I was capable of accomplishing. I believed I was pushing a very concrete limit of mine. And in the end? The only thing limiting me was what I believed about myself, what I thought I could accomplish, what I thought I could handle.
It was humbling. It was a reminder that I don't know as much as I think I do. It was a little disconcerting to think of how close I came to not doing something that I wanted to do, just because I thought it was too hard. Waah.
It was a good lesson. It's also one of those lessons that I need to re-learn on a regular basis. Maybe I should make it a series, a regular feature here on this blog. I'll title the feature: "Wherein I Learn, Yet AGAIN, to Get Out Of My Own Way." Frequent, regular posts will continue on a life-long basis. Ha.
I think we all need to push our limits, even if it's just to find it was never actually a limit anyways, and we are capable of so, SO much more than we've believed of ourselves. Sometimes it doesn't always work out like that...but I think, no matter what, it will always teach us something new about ourselves.
And that is always important.
(post illustrated by pictures of my baby attempting to eat yogurt with a spoon. Way to try, sweet girl! Ha!)