In the beginning of August, I signed up for another half marathon. I was stoked, and began training hard core. And then school started, and my schedule began backed; I was getting up at 4:30 in order to balance training, school, work, and relationship responsibilities. Needless to say, I was tired most of the time. When I began getting sick, I realized I was repeated what I'd done last year. Not wanting to be ridiculously sick for 2 months again, I decided not to do the half. This was a hard decision, especially since it couldn't be refunded. When I learned that they offered a 5k as well, I decided to switch to that, knowing it'd be an easy race for me even if I didn't train (which I didn't).
I didn't think much about the race until I went to pick up my packet Friday. As I stood in line for the 5k information, I starred longingly at the half line, wishing I were in that one instead. Shame, discouragement, and guilt all hit. Walking away from the booth, I fought back tears as thoughts flooded my mind: I felt like I'd failed, felt like I could have made it work it I really had tried; after all, I'd gotten to 11 miles before school had started. I felt foolish for running such an easy distance. I couldn't get excited about the race; it wasn't a fun run or for a cause I was directly connected to like other 5's I've done. I felt disappointed that I couldn't do the half, felt like running the 5k was pointless. Yeah, to say my attitude was bad is an understatement.
This morning it was worse. When my fiance picked me up for the race, I tried to put on a good face, tried to convince myself that I was excited about it. And when that didn't work...
When I left my finance for the starting line, I again fought tears. The first 2 miles were miserable thanks to my attitude. I was angry and bitter and myself and other runners, quietly judging them in my head for being inferior to the halfers, then judging myself for not being able to keep up with them. It took me 2 miles of frustration, anger, and watery eyes to try to put my thoughts elsewhere. I tried singing, a normal running routine for me, which helped get my mind off of myself and onto God where it belongs. At about 2.5 miles, I began to pray about it. In my head, I knew I'd done the right thing, but in my heart I wasn't feeling it.
Here's what makes it hard: the reason that I decided to do the shorter race was because I knew it'd be healthier for me over all; there will be other halfs (and fulls!) when I'm done with school; more important than racing, I needed to take care of myself, God's baby, and the things that He's entrusted to me during this season of life. I KNOW that, but the stubborn/perfectionist in me wants to say screw it, I can take on the world! Basically, I had to do the hard thing of saying no. Yeah, that's way more challenging than running miles upon miles. But I did it! And I'm trying to be proud of that, trying to realize that that's really what matters right now. Trying being the key word there. Baby steps. =)
To God be the glory, now and forever.
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