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Being My Own Champion

08 Sunday Mar 2015

Posted by stepmommyrun in Uncategorized

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believe, Cheer, competition, goals, God, Mother Teresa, race, run, running, stepmom

I discovered that underneath all of my independence, is someone who is dependent on others to validate their work. And underneath all that reliance on others to validate them, is someone who finally knows how to celebrate themselves. Yesterday was a trying day. It was a last minute decision to join a race, rather than cheer and support. I had trained some, mostly inconsistently. But I had trained. I was getting there. Rebounding from illness, times two, and a round of depression that still seems thick on my skin, I was getting there. So when I signed up for yesterday’s race a mere 5 days prior, I was nervous and doubtful. I had no idea how I would perform, let alone finish. I had multiple layers of fear, both rational and irrational. What I didn’t have was my direct support team. I was doing this solo. Don’t get me wrong, I had some of my direct support, but they had their own things to get through.

As race morning was upon us, one member had spent the last 24 hours fretting and pacing, stressed and worrisome over the length and potential performance in the race. I spent much of my morning in silent support. Another member was battling her own demons with an injury that forced her withdrawal from her original race, to a lesser distance: my race. I spent much of my time trying not to be insulted and trying not to speak.

One thing I know to be true; I am the sensitive one. If I have an opinion, that is deemed excessive or too passionate, the natural response is “uh oh, she’s upset again, lets walk on eggshells around her” When in actuality, I’m just expressing an opinion or telling you how you make me feel. So I have a large basket of emotions at 6AM of race day. I’m doing my best to support the other two, as I still don’t believe I belong here, and therefore my fears and concerns about the race or my performance are not valid. I didn’t train as long or as hard as they did. I didn’t sacrifice the time I don’t have like they did. My battle is nowhere near the earned level theirs is. So I kept quiet. I said minimal about my injury. I said nothing about my fears. I tried my best not to retaliate, or even worse, pathetically beg for attention and validation on this cold run morning.

We arrive at our race, and the first runner takes off. We cheer, take pictures, we yell and clap for her and all the other runners. Then a nervous silence descended on the park. We had 3 hours before our race was scheduled to start. I set up to cheer anyone who came through the first checkpoint on. The injured went to sit in warmth. She was angry. She was frustrated. All of her hard work, training, sacrifice, and tears came down to destruction in her eyes. She was not going to run the race she signed up for, and all because part of her body had betrayed her. It wouldn’t function. It gave up. It gave in, and it would barely let her walk. I watched silently as she struggled to process her disappointment. That process, by the way, looks like rageful anger tinged with sarcastic humor. We are very similar creatures, using passive humor to somehow mollify the pain of failure. It wasn’t working. In fact, while not working, it was creating anger and resentment in me. It was pushing my limits of patience and understanding. I was near tears at one point, and considering lashing out in passive angry humor (ok maybe no humor). Here she was, shrouded in her own frustration and mutiny from her limbs, completely unaware of neither the words she was saying or the attitude displayed toward my race.

I accepted much of it. I accepted that my run wasn’t a real run. I accepted that the race I was doing wasn’t for real runners. Why? Because I lacked confidence in me. I lacked belief that I deserved to be here. I didn’t understand that although my race wasn’t the cream of the crop goal of every runner, it was still going to be an unbelievable accomplishment for me. I didn’t accept that I deserved to be here. I deserved to own and earn this accomplishment. I was spending my prep time battling for someone else’s sanity, and I deserved to have someone invest in mine. I was terrified. I didn’t think I could run as far as I had signed up to run! I didn’t think I could do it alone! I didn’t think I would make it. I feared I would be laughed at, walking this trail, by other runners that I’ve always believed were a supportive community.

And then, something changed.

I’d had enough.

I made an internal decision, which had an outward impact. I decided I deserved to be here. I decided my race was important. I decided my race was amazing. I decided I was valued. I decided to be my own champion. I decided I was important.

From that moment on, I was done worrying about others. I was done being an unresponsive emotional punching bag, intended or not. My race mattered.

The start lineup came. We lined up. We made the decision to run our own races. So often runners will unconsciously make the decision that they cannot leave each other behind. They will keep pace with a slower runner out of guilt, even though they may have trained harder than the runner they are pacing. I know from experience. I am the slow runner! I’ve had team members run their crappiest races because they have this internal desire to motivate and lift the entire team. I’ve had my mom make up songs in the middle of the race, just to keep me motivated and going. And she’s a regular marathoner! So we decided to run separate races. We decided based on our own needs, it would be best to do our races and do them for ourselves and on our own.

Best decision made. Injured took off like a bat out of hell. Her strategy was to run, and run fast before her limbs realized what she was doing, and hopefully once her limbs caught on she would be crashing through the finish line many miles later. I had committed to a 14 minute mile pace in advance. Based on the distant and my training, I believed this was a pace I could finish at.

The run was amazing. It was hard. It was trying. I had to stop 3 separate times to stretch out my own injury I was battling. But I never walked. Half the time I didn’t even pick my head up to look around. The scenery was amazing, but I didn’t know it. I was both my own cheerleader and captain. At one point I was babbling to myself through the trail. I called myself my own last name and my sister’s last name to chastise into running faster.

In the end, I sprinted my last 0.3 miles. I sprinted past our cheering team and Injured yelling and cheering me on. I sprinted over the finish line and claimed my medal at an average pace of 12.36 minutes per mile.  I did this. I did this for me. I accomplished something unbelievable, and I did it alone. No one else on my team really knew or acknowledged what it took for me to accomplish this, and it didn’t matter. I am amazing, and I know what I went through to smash this goal.

So in the end, your take away is this: Sometimes you spend your entire life reliant on others to validate your existence, to empathize with your struggle. And in the end, there is only you. In the end, you might be the only one who notices you. And that, needs to be enough. In the end, you are enough.

“The good you do today, may be forgotten tomorrow. Do it anyway…..In the end it is between you and God, it was never between you and them anyway.” –Mother Theresa

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We just communicated effectively

23 Friday Jan 2015

Posted by stepmommyrun in Uncategorized

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anger, communication, dog poop, garage, passive agressive, running, stepmom

I really don’t want to be passive aggressive, but I feel sometimes that my opinion might literally kill someone with words. Instead of, “Ya know, I absolutely loathe that you don’t care to pick up dog poop in the yard and assume that I will because I just tend to take care of everything so why should you care you son of a…”

woah.

Instead I do this. “Ya know, we’ll get a fine with all that dog poo in the yard. That’s really not a great impression of the Yellers to our neighbors. I picked it all up last time.” Hint Hint. Wink. Wink. Pick up the damn POO you son of a……

woah.

So one might say, I’m not the best at expressing my disappointment in things not being taken care of, especially when I have very vaguely and repeatedly directly but not directly asked you to do it. I like to let it fester and build. I like to see it every morning on my way to work and chew on it for the hour and a half drive. Then I like to work my tail off and expend all of my patience and energy at work. Then I like to drive home the hour and a half contemplating whether it will be there to greet me. Then I sit in my car. And stare at it. And think about it. And know in my heart that if one more day goes by….

And that’s how I escalate the poop in my mind.

So the other morning, I was trying to get my stuff together for a race. And of course this was just a typical race, but since the Packers were playing, it instantly became a themed race with lots of flair because I just can’t do anything at a normal pace/state/attire. So I’m searching for my green and gold leg warmers, because it was cold as blazes out and I want to be safe in my running attire. And I knew they were in my bin in the garage. My LABELLED bin in the garage. My LABELLED Packer bin in the garage. My LABELLED Packer bin of flair….in the garage. It’s early. I’m not the nicest in the morning because I don’t get sleep anymore between work and Peanut, and now the damn dog. So I really try not to speak before leaving the house, in general. I asked Bacon to help me get the bin down, because it’s early and I knew struggling with that was probably going to set me off. We go out to the garage to look for my LABELLED bin. And to my horror, we can’t find it. Not just because there are massive piles of BS thrown everywhere in this garage. Piles of xmas lights, boxes, bins, tools, who knows what thrown everywhere in this “shared” space we have. Bags of recycling piled up by the door to the house. Mid-progress projects abandoned in the middle of the floor. Summer clothes piled on top of the bins they should be piled INSIDE of. So I am pretty sure my huffs and puffs were audible at this point, as I am struggling to contain my frustration and not lash out….rationally or not. (Yes I’m aware I have organization/control/panic/lets-just-stop-the-list-now issues) And I finally give up in a boiling angry state of silence. And then I spot it, in the corner of the garage, I’m pretty sure there was a beam of light shining on it, or the light was merely a reflection of the lasers shooting from my eyeballs, but either way, problem solved. He helps me get it down, all nice, all quiet, don’t poke the bear just give it its leg warmers nice. I frantically shove my stuff in a bag, hugs and kisses goodbye, mutter some passive aggressive comment about dog poop and I’m on my way.

My run was, well just awful. Terrible performance on my end, but it was an amazing opportunity for ma and my sister (Whiskey Shots as I like to call her 😉) to really just lift my spirits after a tremendously dark and difficult week. I was happy as headed to work after the race. I was nice to my staff at work after the race. And then Bacon called.

And he asked if I was ok, because I seemed (pause for audible tension in his voice) “edgy” this morning. When I say I had no intention of getting into any sort of serious heartfelt conversation on the phone at work, I mean it. But he asked, and when he asks something, even though he may not totally absorb the answer, he really wants to at least hear it. So I started with some lame calm response that was passive about the garage. But, as we talked more, just talking got me to the root of why the garage bothered me so much. And what it ultimately came down to was an agreement that had been broken. The garage started off as a sacred space for both of us to share, me with my painting and he with his projects. But through lack of care or priority and excuse after excuse, I had been violently shoved out of my space (my own passive aggressive statement of defiance) and was now resentful, bitter, and down right ticked off. (That’s putting it nicely)

So in the end, a timid question, I’m certain he was terrified to hear the answer to, helped me express my honest feelings, that I didn’t even understand until that moment, and helped him understand how to more effectively ease my stress.

And…..there’s no poop in the yard 😉IMG_7575.JPG

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I left my shoes in San Francisco….it’s not always serious :)

26 Wednesday Nov 2014

Posted by stepmommyrun in Uncategorized

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Tags

crazy, explore, running, starbucks, stepmom, vacation

For all of you wanna-be runners out there (And I say that with the utmost respect, as I am one of you). A word of caution: If it’s been awhile since you laced up, might I recommend not lacing up on 60 degree inclines.

I recently had to opportunity to go on a “Freedom Fest” in San Francisco. I cashed in my miles and booked a solo trip for some much-needed rest and recuperation. I was all sorts of jacked up to see the city, explore, eat, wander aimlessly, and kick-start my running career. (Did I mention in a moment of panic and sheer aimlessness I signed up for a half marathon in less than 6 months?!!!) I flew in late in the afternoon, found my way around the city on the BART, had a lovely sushi meal, explored a little, and promptly fell asleep early.

I awoke the next morning before 6AM, lets face it, old habits die-hard even on vacation. I sprang out of bed, dusted off my running pants, and laced up; fresh-faced, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed, ready to seize the run! I went down to the hotel lobby where they were rocking (loudly) some GaGa song, and felt renewed energy I haven’t felt in a long time. I was pretty darn motivated. I walked out the front door and stopped. People were passing by the hotel, clutching their collars around their necks, holding fiercely to their umbrellas, and gawking at me with my running shoes on and headphones in, as if to say “She can’t be serious.” I stood there a moment, both taking them in and allowing them to take me in. By God it was raining in San Fran, and these people thought I was bananas! I flipped to the next song on my playlist and took off running in the rain. I don’t know if you’ve run in the rain or snow before, but where I’m from, if it’s not a freezing rain, it’s a blast to run in! I quickly passed the “huddle walkers” and started off on my laced up adventure.

I made it 1.5 miles. Up hill. Both ways. I thought my legs were going to just break off and walk away, possibly middle-toe me on their exit. My lungs were burning for oxygen, my head was dizzy. It was an impossible run. And it was my first since August.

Fool.

But I was proud of myself. I was alone in a new city. I was out on a run in the rain. I was rocking 15 minute miles up hill the whole way. I deserved a Starbucks for this! I stopped in at the nearest SB, ordered my traditional, and walked confidently out the front door. It was here that I realized, holy biscuits, I’m totally lost in this city. Up is down and right is left in SF. So much of the city is surrounded by water, so if you can see over the hill to know there’s water there, depending on where exactly you might be in the city, that could be west….that could be south. Or was it North?

No sweat I thought, I’ll wander. Maybe do some Christmas shopping along the way. Maybe I’ll even stop in and disturb the Prada people with my sweaty, rain-soaked mess of an excuse for a human. I wandered aimlessly, fully believing my direction would right itself in the end, and sipped my SB happily. Eventually, my venti was gone, and I was starting to recognize where I was. I was feeling so upbeat and positive that I thought, “Why not run again?”

Let me just point out this obvious flaw for you: Do not have a Starbucks after a run, then decide to run again once it is gone.

This was a fatal flaw, lets just say by the time I ran through the front door of the hotel I must have been a sight to see: Dripping wet, red-faced, bent in half, near dead. The broken elevator could not get there fast enough, and there was no way I was running another 6 flights of stairs.  Needless to say, I made it to my room, and spent the next few hours recovering.

Always be motivated and excited by the newness of your situation and be certain that your coffee intake is situationally appropriate.

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Well nobody expected this….

12 Wednesday Nov 2014

Posted by stepmommyrun in Uncategorized

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Tags

honest, running, stepmom

Welcome to Step Mommy Run. I’ve never blogged before, but I find that I talk a lot, I make people laugh, and I am creative and want to help others. One thing I’ve discovered about being a Stepmom is that no matter what people tell you, no one can prepare you for some of the highs and some of the lows. My family always wondered about me when I was growing up, “will she be a nunn” “will she have children” “My God that child has control issues”. So no one ever saw “Stepmom” coming, and most of them are still reeling from what that means.

Did I mention I’m a runner? Well, I used to be. No, no, I was trying to be. Then life, parenting, commitment to relationship development, new job, family, the list goes on….suddenly jumped in and stole my running shoes. Literally, my running shoes disappeared for at least a couple months when we all moved in together!

Join me in some of these highs and lows. I promise to be honest. I guarantee I’ll be “ugly”. I’ll try share my ways of coping, and lets be honest, sometimes “checking out”. Most of all maybe we won’t feel so alone in this journey. I’ve noticed there are few “stepmommy groups/meetups” in my area. I spend time combing the internet for blogs or “help me” answers to some of the drama I face. Many of my friends and family do not personally know a step parent, and therefore have no idea how to respond or act accordingly….did I mention I’m crazy sensitive and have been all my life? Words have impact on a high level for me.

Also, I’m very random, so that should provide some entertainment.

Stay tuned for the adventure…

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