I have never been an athlete. I’ve always been much more comfortable with books than any sort of sport or race. So last summer, when Paul and I started cycling, we started out very slowly. Like just-a-couple-of-miles slowly. But I’ve improved a lot, and gotten to the point where I actually enjoy exercise (not every minute, mind you), and I’m kind of cranky if I miss a workout. I feel that admitting this is a betrayal of everything I’ve ever believed. (Okay, not quite, but it’s really weird.)
But a lifetime of thinking about yourself a certain way is hard to turn around. So when my niece Keely asked me to do a race with her, I immediately said no. No, no, no. Really not ready for that. Not a chance. I only run when I’m being chased. Maybe next summer, when I’ve had time to get used to the idea.
(That’s Keely on the left. No, we did not plan matching outfits, we just showed up that way.)
But a couple of people encouraged me to think about it a little. And I decided that if I didn’t do this, it should be because I’d tried it and found out that I just couldn’t make it, rather than because I was too chicken to try.
I added some walk/run intervals into my schedule. I was not surprised to find that I still do not like to run. But I was surprised to discover that it no longer makes me wish for death. Snails pass me and laugh in derision, but it’s survivable.
So, next Sunday afternoon, I am going to trot (slowly!) right out of my comfort zone, and run a Warrior Dash.
I have no lofty goals. I don’t care how long it takes me, or whether I have to skip an obstacle, or walk some of the way. Because the fact that I even decided to try means that I’ve changed my assumptions about the things I can and can’t do. Maybe I’ll even surprise myself.
But I’ll admit to being pretty nervous about it. In fact, I decided to post this because telling everyone I know means that now it’s too late to back out.
So. Here’s to being freaked out and doing it anyway! I’ll let you know how it goes.