The Little Voice Inside

It’s been a weird couple of days.

On Tuesday, after completely succumbing to the hateful voice of doubt inside, I had a pretty rotten day. It all came to a head that day when I was consumed by shitty thoughts….about me, about CBG, about our relationship.

Thank you PMS, you piece of shit.

Fortunately I was able to give my head a shake and figure out what was going on. I fired off an email to CBG, letting him know where my headspace was at, what I needed, and asking if we could talk later that night.

And talk we did. I laid it all out on the table. My fears, my mental obstacles that I’m facing when it comes to this marathon, my expectations, my hopes.

It’s difficult for me to expose myself like this to him, even after almost four years together. I try so hard to be strong sometimes, to deal with my issues, to not lean on him too much. And then I forgot how to be vulnerable, how to ask to have my needs met. Because every once in a while I need to remind myself that he can’t read my mind. He can’t magically know my needs. Nor should he have to.

By the end of our conversation, hugs were given, tears were shed, a new level of understanding was reached.

He loves me. He really, really loves me.

I woke up yesterday morning at 4:30 a.m. with a renewed sense of purpose. By 5:00 I hit the road. It felt good. It gave me the opportunity to mull so many things over in my mind, as these long runs always do. By the time I arrived home, I was feeling strong and confident. Amazing what a great run can do. At this point I was thinking about the marathon, but still not ready to commit to anything in my mind.

On my walk to work I was still mulling things over. I was thinking about all the pressure that I’ve been putting on myself with this. I started wondering, deep down, if I really could do this or not….particularly with the finish time that I’ve had  my eye on.

And then, the little voice in me, loud and clear came through. It had a very important question to ask. The voice said, “So what? What’s the WORST outcome of this marathon weekend?”

I realized that the worst outcome would be having a crappy finish time. As soon as this thought came to me, the Little Voice popped up again. “So what?”

And then I thought about why it would bother me. And the answer was pride. Because those times when I set out on my long runs this summer I wasn’t worried about my time. I just wanted to get out there and run for the pure joy of running. For the challenge. So I could know that I did it. But attaching a timing chip to my shoe shouldn’t change that.

But I would much rather go, try, and fail and regret THAT, then sit at home that weekend, feel like crap and regret not going. I would rather regret the things that I did do in this life, rather than the things that I didn’t.

.

I want this for me. I want to prove to myself that I can do this. I want that finisher’s medal. I want a whole damn collection of them so that someday when I’m a little old lady I can haul out my box of medals and bore my grandkids with all the stories of the races I ran. I want to show my girls what it looks like to stand up to your fears. I want to be able to sit back when I can no longer run someday and hug close to my chest the knowledge that I faced my fears and went out there and lived life.