It’s race week. The lead up to this race has had its own story to tell just like every other race except this one feels different. This one belongs only to me.
With a brand new blank slate to write my own story, I’ve been left with only my wants, my passion, my desire and my fears. It’s been a tug-of-war battle between all the voices in my head.
With five days until race day, today may forever be marked as the day I wrote the draft for the next phase of my life. Of all days, today should be the day.
At 7:13 this morning the sun rose. At 7:13 tonight the sun will set. Today is the day that my tiny piece of the world is perfectly balanced. To celebrate, I went for a run. Three easy miles down a favorite trail and up and over a bridge that’s crosses the point where the Chesapeake bay meets the waterways inland. I was surrounded by beauty and balance. The trail is becoming green as spring makes itself know to our coastal city.
Today is the day that there is equal amounts of light and dark. Tomorrow the light takes over.
The run felt fluid. My legs felt strong.
After my run, I indulged in a lunch date with two powerhouse ladies. We discussed race plans and dreams. We shared fears and life stories. During the three hour lunch, my brain ran circles around possibilities. This race is different than any other race I’ve run for one simple reason.
Running has always healed me. It’s always pieced me back together. Every single time I’ve run shamrock, I was piecing myself back together.
2010 – the year I ran to prove I was capable
2011 – the year I cheered from the sidelines with a stress fracture
2012 – the year I ran to prove I could be more than a newborn mom
2013 – the year I ran my first marathon with a grieving heart (cancer sucks!)
2014 – the year I ran to prove I could come back from injury
2015 – the year I ran to fall in love with racing again
I always perceived myself to be broken.
2016 is different. 2016 is the year I write my own story. This blank slate is giving me the opportunity to launch myself down whatever path I choose. There is no heartache to overcome. There is nothing to heal, fix or piece together. I am whole.
All I have to do on race day is show up, silence the fears in my head, and run myself to finish line. Every year I’ve ran broken and got to the finished feeling healed. This year I’m showing up to the finish line whole, and I will finish the race whole.
This year I’m giving myself permission to be unbreakable.