…Yup. After losing 115 pounds, I find myself having gained back 65 (50 of which came in the last year and half alone…). Were they worth it? That’s a silly question. Did I come to a better understanding of who I am as I gained back those 65 pounds? That’s the better question.
I think of today. I did a track workout, a speed workout, a workout on a mother-f-ing bridge.
I cried, but not for the reasons you would think. I cried because my principal walked about seven students to my class, because they were “let in late”. I cried because a student advocated for themselves and said they couldn’t sit near a student (whom I thought was fine, and had worked with just yesterday), and I was emailed about it right as I was completing the seating chart. I cried because I signed a paper saying I would reimburse my school for attending an out-of-state conference, in the event that I did not return to the school for the next school year. I cried because a substitute passively watched a group of students in his class, thus disrupting the fragile ecosystem that is the second floor hallway during periods 5,6,7. If you haven’t gotten the gist yet, it’s this: “I cried because of things happening at work.” (That’s less than 10 words, boo-yah CSR!)
Throughout the workout I worked out what I needed to say to my friends–because this was a track workout, with a group, you see the people who have become your running community in the last few years— that I had given the cold shoulder to… “I don’t do well with words of affirmation.” “My tears are a release of the day.” “I need this time to decompress from the day.” As I worked through this, I cried more (the workout was over at this point, and a friend had come to walk back to the running store with me, because I had worried her with my angry facial expressions). I cried because I don’t advocate for myself, enough. I don’t advocate for myself because of two reasons: 1) I’m a crier, and the emotion is raw, and it’s been my experience that I’m asked to not cry in those moments and 2) When I do advocate, in my job, I’m told, “this is what makes [you great, so suck it up buttercup] (my words, not theirs… but I’m still using the quotes!).”
As I told my coach tonight, “I need you to not publicly recognize me, when I’m the last one,” and I gave her the reasons why, she said, “From my experience, I want to shower you with praise, because I don’t want you to quit.” I scoffed at that (in my head), because I never plan on quitting running. I don’t plan on quitting training, maybe lessening the intensity, but never fully quitting–I’ve been a runner for six beautiful years now. But as I think about MK’s approach, as I think about her sign off, “you are coached and loved,” she is making me great. I’ve known of MK for the last year and a half, but I signed on (and actually committed) to train with her back in January. So, in two and half months, she’s gained my trust to let me advocate for myself and accepted it, no questions asked. But, she is also growing me as a runner, nay a person. As I cried in telling her what I needed, I understood myself that much better. I understood why I have a hard time advocating for self. I also began to understand my tears that much more. I cry when I’m ready to let go: be it of a person, an event, or an image of what should be. (Memories of not crying when Matt and I ended things in February, nor again in May, nor again in June… but not until Labor Day Weekend did I cry…)
I don’t cry about my running, because I’m not going to give it up. Yes, I’m heavier than I’d to be (but no heavier than when I started this journey five years ago; the mishap in time has to do with having to walk off 40+ lbs before I could actually start running; but the intent to be a runner began six years ago). Yes, I’m slower than I want to be (screw you 15-17 minute miles, but 11-13 minute miles are closer than I see). I am a runner at heart. I am a runner.
The tears you’re crying today might water the seed that’s gonna come forth in your life and bring forth something great tomorrow! ~ Steven Furtick (I have no idea who this guy is, but a friend just posted this quote and I found it so fitting…)
So, as I cry my last tears about today at work, I think of God’s Will in my life. I cry, because I have to let go, and let God. I truly believe that His Will ultimately reigns. I cry because I trust that whatever His plan is, will be far greater than holding on to the pain and ill-will of life not going according to my plan.
A better understanding of who I am.