Things fall apart.
Yesterday, I ran 7 miles and the first half nearly killed me. The hills seemed like mountains and the flat parts seemed too steep. I wondered what I was doing. It was my idea to train for a half marathon and I can just as easily stop training. It was hot and humid and I had only three hours of sleep the night before. I was thirsty and feeling dizzy, but I kept going because I was running with a friend and I didn’t want to compromise his workout. I also didn’t want to look stupid.
At about mile 5, my calves were telling me to stop. My mind had given up at mile 3 and I almost gave into my sore legs when I realized that running is just as much mental as it is physical and that I could choose to finish the run or to stop and walk home. I chose to finish. The last 3 miles were the easiest. My legs hurt but my mind and my heart were in a better place. And my sore muscles today are a reminder that I got through.
Just like our emotional woundings are really battle scars that remind us that we are still here, that we got through, that we learned something and that next time, we can choose how to cope.