catch up - 10/17/11
I find it rather humorous that lately I somehow turn most daily occurrences into metaphors. What am I, a psychoanalyst? Get outta here! Regardless, here comes yet another parallel. Yesterday, I ran my first half marathon (get it!!!). As expected, I had a few challenging times. I would like to note that the course was extraordinarily hilly. Up and down, up and down. I refused to get caught up in the fact that my poor tush was getting more of a workout than it had signed up for. I reminded myself that after every hill there had to be some kind of decline where I could let gravity take me, at least a little bit. Life, as I know it, is a constant series of rolling hills. I was proud of myself. Correction. I am proud of myself. Yes, for physically being able to take my running feet 13.1 miles. Yes, for committing to training and for getting through hard days and maintaining the presence to appreciate good days. But most prominently, proud of picking myself up when I was in doubt. I was proud of myself for pushing through because I could and proud for believing in myself. For sprinting the last 0.1 mile when I didn’t think I had it in me. Once again I felt moved by the good of people. Inspired that people had the strength to run to finish, even far after I was done. That people had the spirit to encourage one another. Strangers! That people recognized the accomplishments of others. What a win.