Brave

Update: I did NOT die on, during, or shortly after my last race.  There were moments that I was certain the end was approaching but I resisted going towards the light. Shortly after I crossed the finish line I almost passed out, my tiny fingers turned in to tiny sausages (dehydreation), at times on the course I had a small rock in my shoe but knew if I sat down on a curb that I would be found there days later having never gotten my coveted medal, and just today, almost 2 months post-race, I lost my big toe nail from the bruising I received from the hills on that bloody course.  Gross, I know, but such is the life of a distance runner.  I'm pretty sure that my husband thought I was being a baby about the whole thing but I believe he may be singing a different tune now that he gets to stare at 1/3 of what was my big toe nail on my left foot. Ha!

"Change Your Fate"..... Much has been weighing on my mind lately and I don't belive it a coincidence (I don't believe in coincidences, period) that this most incredible movie from the geniuses at Pixar, was released when I most needed it.  I could go on and on about the beauty of this animated masterpiece, but I'm not much into movie reviews.  However, this movie created a blubbering idiot in the movie theatre and as the lights came up during the rolling credits I was no doubt frightening every child around me as they exited the theatre.  Even now, I have to swallow a bit harder from the lump in my throat just thinking about it. 

So what's the big deal? I suppose the big deal for me is that even as a 35 year old woman I am learning life lessons from Disney movies, or moreover, finding validation from them. Who would've thought?

Lately I have found myself almost paralyzed with fear. 

I find that I am stratling the fence between total and utter failure and seeing, believeng, and experiencing my wildest dreams coming true.  More scary is that there seems to be a comfort level with the failure part.  If I fail then I fail. I at least had the guts to try. No harm. No foul. I get a desk job, work 8a-5p by somebody elses rules, live pay check to pay check, become frighteningly obsessed with weekends, and.....and.....become everything I have always known I was never supposed to be.

Success, on the other hand, sends shivers of fear down my spine like nothing I have ever experienced before and the closer I get to what I imagined my life to be the more of a hold it has had on me lately.  For every inspirational speaking presentation I book I become more and more fearful that what I have to say really isn't as inspirational as I once thought it to be when I was practicing my speech out loud to myself in my office.  I have, what I picture to be, this nasty little green man that sits on my shoulder and whispers in my ear words of defeat, of negativity, of not being enough, of failure.  And yet, people tell me time and time again that my life story is inspirational and that they will (thankfully) pay me to tell it.  I suppose when one has lived it, when one has mudled through the muck and the heartbreak, the pain and the rejection of life (from classmates to friends to fathers to ex-husbands) it is simply universally more difficult to see what others see as they are on the outside looking in.  I aknowledge that my journey has made me wise beyond my years, more compassionate than my little heart can sometimes handle, and sadly, sometimes more self defeating and heart broken than I know what do with; but I struggle to believe that coming out the other side of all of the pain that I have endured can be inspirational to others who are on their own path.  I teeter between declairing my speaking as a profession and sheepishly mentioning it in passing to another person. 

I know that I know that I know that I am on the cusp of my own personal greatness (whatever that may look like) because I have taken the risks to be BRAVE and courageous in my life.  To change my fate from what others (my mother) believes my life should look like and what my heart has always told me I was born to do.  Isn't it amazing that running 13.1 miles doesn't scare me half as much as the success I have always dreamed/wished/hoped for for myself does? Oprah always says "To whom much is given, much is expected." which I interpret to mean that I have been given my tests and trials along with the stubborn and head-strong attitude to come out the other side of my challenges with a story to tell that may help another. Whether it's a room full of people or sitting across the table with a friend, I now understand that the rent I must pay to take up space on this planet is to help others through their own journey.  I am by no means a perfect person but I have lessons to teach.

I found a fantastic canvas print in a small boutique one day that now hangs above my desk. It reads "Your story matters (tell it)."  I stare at it every day (and make my little green monster stare at it too).  All roads lead to a life of sharing my stories. At times I wish they hadn't been what would make an interesting lesson to share someday (I feel fairly certain that I could have lived without a lesson or two that brought me to my knees in pain)...but it's becoming more clear that that "someday" is now my "today".

So for now I will say this to myself to slow my rapid heart beat, clear my mind, and connect back to my soul....