I got it! I got IT! I GOT IT!!!
The confirmation email came through around 4am this morning. I have an entry in the Houston Marathon in January. I ran the half in 2010 (trained on my own with no input from anyone - I didn't ask.) I ran through pain in my foot. But I kept running. I was excited to finish and I called my family who all live out of town to let them know I had done it. My dad died that night or the next, we're not sure. I had a stress fracture in my right foot and I kept on running - through the pain of that next week. I put on a suit and flew to Sacramento, handling arrangements in a professional, businesslike manner. I ran on the treadmill at the hotel. I put on a dress and heels and looked pretty for his friends at his memorial celebration. I came home and I ran. Then I couldn't run anymore because I ended up in an immobilization boot and was stopped in my tracks. I started gaining weight and I packed it on with a vengence.
Recently I took a good long look in the mirror, laced up my shoes and started walking. My foot has healed. My heart is healing. I started eating healthier. My pace has quickened and my body is starting to show the results of my efforts.
There were times when my foot was hurting so much that I swore I'd never tackle a long distance race again. I don't think I really knew what pain was. Now I know.
I'm going to seek help to train for this race. If there's anything I learned over the last two years, it's to seek help.
I'm so excited - again - finally! And that is a wonderful feeling.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Thursday, June 21, 2012
I'm Sorry
For the longest time, I didn’t know what to say once the Litany of Fear began. I searched for the right response, aware that I should be paying attention to the concern that was pouring forth in front of me. The speaker always voiced concern for my safety. The speech took off from there and I was assailed with all the reasons I shouldn’t do whatever it was I was doing. I might hurt myself. Someone might hurt me. There were financial risks. I didn’t know enough about the situation. I hadn’t really thought things through. The weather might change. Things don’t always turn out as we expect and I could be disappointed. What if I failed? What then?
I sometimes nodded. I’d throw in a few humming sounds occasionally.
I’ve learned not to try to converse during the Litany. The Litany of Fear is not a conversation. It’s a stump speech to try to convince someone not to act. I’m not even sure if it’s directed at me. My hunch tells me it’s directed back at the speaker more often than not.
How do I know this? I’ve been hearing slightly different versions of the Litany of Fear regarding everything from: jobs, travel, running, dating, living situations, automobiles, and assorted other situations for the past ten years. I’m not always the receiver of the Litany. I’ve also witnessed it being preached to others as well.
Here’s what I’ve started saying at the close of the Litany. I think it’s about the best response I can use. It seems to satisfy both of us.
“I’m sorry.”
I really AM sorry. I’m sorry that there is so much fear behind the delivery of the Litany.
Growing up I learned from my many mothers that when I felt sympathy and I couldn’t think of anything else to say, saying “I’m sorry” was enough. My Mother taught me when I was a little girl. I joined a sorority and my housemother gave me lessons in polite society behavior. My Grandmother showed me by example when my mom died.
So now, when I’m faced with someone who (in my perception) is using the opportunity of my situation to express their own fears – but not in a direct manner, I simply say, “I’m sorry.” And then I get on with whatever it was I wanted to do. If the Preacher of the Litany of Fear perceives that my apology means they've swayed me in some way...so be it. Amen and Amen.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not as if I’m going to ignore sound advice. If someone suggests that I might be killed, yeah, that will get my attention. I’m just not wearing the heaviness of others’ fears. The weight of my own hang-ups has been plenty enough to carry as I make these decisions.
©Michelle Scofield, June 21, 2012 All Rights Reserved
I sometimes nodded. I’d throw in a few humming sounds occasionally.
I’ve learned not to try to converse during the Litany. The Litany of Fear is not a conversation. It’s a stump speech to try to convince someone not to act. I’m not even sure if it’s directed at me. My hunch tells me it’s directed back at the speaker more often than not.
How do I know this? I’ve been hearing slightly different versions of the Litany of Fear regarding everything from: jobs, travel, running, dating, living situations, automobiles, and assorted other situations for the past ten years. I’m not always the receiver of the Litany. I’ve also witnessed it being preached to others as well.
Here’s what I’ve started saying at the close of the Litany. I think it’s about the best response I can use. It seems to satisfy both of us.
“I’m sorry.”
I really AM sorry. I’m sorry that there is so much fear behind the delivery of the Litany.
Growing up I learned from my many mothers that when I felt sympathy and I couldn’t think of anything else to say, saying “I’m sorry” was enough. My Mother taught me when I was a little girl. I joined a sorority and my housemother gave me lessons in polite society behavior. My Grandmother showed me by example when my mom died.
So now, when I’m faced with someone who (in my perception) is using the opportunity of my situation to express their own fears – but not in a direct manner, I simply say, “I’m sorry.” And then I get on with whatever it was I wanted to do. If the Preacher of the Litany of Fear perceives that my apology means they've swayed me in some way...so be it. Amen and Amen.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not as if I’m going to ignore sound advice. If someone suggests that I might be killed, yeah, that will get my attention. I’m just not wearing the heaviness of others’ fears. The weight of my own hang-ups has been plenty enough to carry as I make these decisions.
©Michelle Scofield, June 21, 2012 All Rights Reserved
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