Tonight was the first night I broke down and put on a pair of running shorts since last August. Somewhere around mile 3, when my breath was short and Carl kept tripping over my feet, I was discouraged. That discouragement was only amplified by looking down and seeing my thighs.
Growing up, my family had always referred to my thighs as 'thunder thighs'--a name that was not always meant in a nice way but that I have come to accept as a part of me, perhaps until tonight. I am ill prepared for the half-marathon in five weeks and that in itself is my own fault. But tonight, looking down in frustration, my whole mood changed from light and optimistic to defeated. Looking around there were at least a dozen runners around me all with the perfect form. We're talking about the types of girls or guys you could see in loose fitting hoodies and sweatpants and know from the very stride of their walk that they were runners. In this moment, the first thing I thought was that I am not a runner. No matter how many miles I log a week or how many Chia Seed Breakfasts, Salad Lunches and Quinoa Dinners I eat, I will never be a "runner". In this moment, even my calves, the ones I'm usually so proud of in dresses for showing the hard work that I put in on the road, just looked large and frumpy to me. A moment of weakness in my run, caused me to completely crumble.
I don't think this is unusual. I don't think that it's so crazy for even the most fit person to hate the size of their ass compared to the rest of their body or for the prettiest girl to worry about that one freckle or zit that is misplaced. What I do hate, is that when I could have just buckled down and admitted to myself that this was not my best run, I attacked myself. Worse yet, I attacked my running partner. I went from thinking that I wasn't a runner because I didn't have the ideal runners body to all of a sudden thinking that I was somewhere just above worthless. At the root of it, it was me comparing myself to the people around me. What is it, that we have to compare ourselves all the time? I was told daily by either my parents, sister or on the rare occasion that my brothers were feeling extra nice, that I was beautiful. I believe it, even if it's not in a traditional sense. But running is the one thing that should be about self. Tonight I just couldn't do it. I looked around and then I lost myself, my pace, and my drive. Why do we compare? Why does it matter if my pace is different than yours or if my thighs don't display the strength that they hold?
Tonight...my run was a mental failure.
Tomorrow...my mind will be stronger and my stride a little longer for suffering through this run.
P.S. If you haven't watched this yet, DO IT!! Why do we compare when we don't even see the real us to begin with? Dove Beauty Sketches
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Friday, April 12, 2013
i lead a small, simple life.
It's a rainy Friday morning and the view of Jim's plaid collection from my bed seems more promising than venturing the half a block for my normal day-off breakfast at Five Points. So in order to buy myself a few more minutes in bed without feeling lazy, I'll write...
"Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life - well, valuable, but small - and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around?"
It's is a quote from You've Got Mail, one of my favorite movies, that I always find myself relating to. I feel like I lead this, small and simple life. I think until I really started 'dejunking' my life, I thought that it was a bad thing. But the more I challenge myself to change, the more I realize that all I want is a small and simple life. I want the type of life where I create with my hands and my mind. My grammy Tollini told me about how little her family's life was effected during the Depression. With a family of 12 children, I find it unbelievable so I ask her to tell me about it regularly to make sure she isn't mixing up her facts at 93-years-old. She lived in the country. They grew their own food and most of their needs were met with their own two hands. That is the life that I want to live. I know that I want to live a life that is hard-earned but that no one can take away from me.
I work a job that can be grueling and stressful for less than living wage. Some days I come home feeling defeated that I pour myself into children who in five years won't remember me while not making ends meet or so easily hit me when they're having a hissy fit. I know that I am called to work with children and so I absorb the stress and the financial loss until I can move abroad and walk out my dreams (or stay here and make my dream coffeeshop). But what I find, at the end of a long day, is that I come home to something amazing each day.
My house is far more than just four walls. There is love here. I'm greeted immediately at the door by Carl, a pit bull-mastiff mix. For being such a tough guy he certainly knows how to make you feel needed and wanted. He's my roommates dog and to be honest when I moved in I wasn't sure how I was going to like living with my roommate, knowing maybe more his public persona than anything real about him. What I found is that I gained more than a friend but someone that I consider a brother. He's always quick with a joke when things get tense and when I find myself on the stairs sneaking an unusual alone moment, he checks, just to make sure that I'm okay. And of course, Jim, who can light up my whole day with just one smile. I have found myself wanting to spend nights at home, because the three men who can make me smile after a rough day are right there--laughing and joking, discussing life's little problems or just being in each others presence. There's no logical reason the three of us should have such great relationships, we're all so different but what we've created here is more like a family, our home a safe-haven where anything that happens stays here and we go out of our way for each other.
To me, building a home has been the most important key to my small but valuable life. No matter what happens outside this house, I know what I have to come back to. I know I can make a simple phone call to Jim or Mike when I'm in a tight spot and there they will be. In the age of social media, there are hundreds of people that you might be 'friends' with, but who are those people that you purposely build relationships with? I used to think having a bunch of friends was so important until I realized that the people I cut out were the gossips, the negative energy in my life and when I was left with just a handful, I knew it was that these people, I wanted to pour my life into and share a relationship with them not just be Saturday night drinking buddies.
When I take time to notice how much my life has changed in the last two years, it always seems like it is mainstreaming to a fulfilling, simple life. I don't go out and party, I rarely spend money on things but rather experiences, and I use about 1/4 of gas preferring to walk and giving up my car. I value a good cup of coffee and conversation with friends during a hike. I've strapped on running shoes instead of alcohol to get out my stress or to reward myself and when I would usually find myself bored, I put a pen in my hand and make a sketch. I'm starting to believe the smaller and simpler the life, the more you are able to dig in your roots and make your relationships with yourself and others deeper. Superficial interactions are eliminated when you live with meaning and purpose whether that's saving a building on the West Side or planting a garden out back.
More than anything, I think that you miss out when you don't stop to think about the small things in your life. You probably come home every day to the same house, the same people. You probably spend Sunday brunch at the same restaurant, drinking the same cocktail. It's okay to live a small, simple life. One you love and are comfortable in but make sure that you stop and are thankful for the life that you have taken the time to lead and the things you are fortunate to have. I've really done that this week and I'm telling you, it is eye opening what you'll see.
"Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life - well, valuable, but small - and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around?"
It's is a quote from You've Got Mail, one of my favorite movies, that I always find myself relating to. I feel like I lead this, small and simple life. I think until I really started 'dejunking' my life, I thought that it was a bad thing. But the more I challenge myself to change, the more I realize that all I want is a small and simple life. I want the type of life where I create with my hands and my mind. My grammy Tollini told me about how little her family's life was effected during the Depression. With a family of 12 children, I find it unbelievable so I ask her to tell me about it regularly to make sure she isn't mixing up her facts at 93-years-old. She lived in the country. They grew their own food and most of their needs were met with their own two hands. That is the life that I want to live. I know that I want to live a life that is hard-earned but that no one can take away from me.
I work a job that can be grueling and stressful for less than living wage. Some days I come home feeling defeated that I pour myself into children who in five years won't remember me while not making ends meet or so easily hit me when they're having a hissy fit. I know that I am called to work with children and so I absorb the stress and the financial loss until I can move abroad and walk out my dreams (or stay here and make my dream coffeeshop). But what I find, at the end of a long day, is that I come home to something amazing each day.
My house is far more than just four walls. There is love here. I'm greeted immediately at the door by Carl, a pit bull-mastiff mix. For being such a tough guy he certainly knows how to make you feel needed and wanted. He's my roommates dog and to be honest when I moved in I wasn't sure how I was going to like living with my roommate, knowing maybe more his public persona than anything real about him. What I found is that I gained more than a friend but someone that I consider a brother. He's always quick with a joke when things get tense and when I find myself on the stairs sneaking an unusual alone moment, he checks, just to make sure that I'm okay. And of course, Jim, who can light up my whole day with just one smile. I have found myself wanting to spend nights at home, because the three men who can make me smile after a rough day are right there--laughing and joking, discussing life's little problems or just being in each others presence. There's no logical reason the three of us should have such great relationships, we're all so different but what we've created here is more like a family, our home a safe-haven where anything that happens stays here and we go out of our way for each other.
To me, building a home has been the most important key to my small but valuable life. No matter what happens outside this house, I know what I have to come back to. I know I can make a simple phone call to Jim or Mike when I'm in a tight spot and there they will be. In the age of social media, there are hundreds of people that you might be 'friends' with, but who are those people that you purposely build relationships with? I used to think having a bunch of friends was so important until I realized that the people I cut out were the gossips, the negative energy in my life and when I was left with just a handful, I knew it was that these people, I wanted to pour my life into and share a relationship with them not just be Saturday night drinking buddies.
When I take time to notice how much my life has changed in the last two years, it always seems like it is mainstreaming to a fulfilling, simple life. I don't go out and party, I rarely spend money on things but rather experiences, and I use about 1/4 of gas preferring to walk and giving up my car. I value a good cup of coffee and conversation with friends during a hike. I've strapped on running shoes instead of alcohol to get out my stress or to reward myself and when I would usually find myself bored, I put a pen in my hand and make a sketch. I'm starting to believe the smaller and simpler the life, the more you are able to dig in your roots and make your relationships with yourself and others deeper. Superficial interactions are eliminated when you live with meaning and purpose whether that's saving a building on the West Side or planting a garden out back.
More than anything, I think that you miss out when you don't stop to think about the small things in your life. You probably come home every day to the same house, the same people. You probably spend Sunday brunch at the same restaurant, drinking the same cocktail. It's okay to live a small, simple life. One you love and are comfortable in but make sure that you stop and are thankful for the life that you have taken the time to lead and the things you are fortunate to have. I've really done that this week and I'm telling you, it is eye opening what you'll see.
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