Well, the song goes a bit differently…
Music is one of those things that soothes my soul, makes me tick, heightens my awareness, engages my brain, transports me to another place, and everything else in between and so much more than that.
I go through cycles with the songs that really hang heavy in my mind and heart…it might be the lyrics that speak to me in a way that nothing else can, or the music itself provides something that words themselves cannot. Whatever it is. Music is an essential part of my everyday life.
So, the song goes, “Fear, you don’t own me/There ain’t no room in this story…Telling me what I’m not/Like you know me well guess what?/I know who I am/I know I’m strong/And I am free/Got my own identity” (The Break Up Song, Francesca Battistelli)
I have a lot of fears in life. I’m scared of a great many things. Many things. I have often been scared of failure…but, I’m learning maybe, just maybe, that in the failure comes the building blocks for so much greater potential.
It’s no big secret this year has not gone my way. I had plans and goals, and well, life had other plans. Valley fever wreaked havoc on my body in more ways than I possibly could have imagined, including having to rebuild my lung capacity and now going to have to completely revisit my endurance fueling plan because I’m having a lot of problems being able to take in anything after a certain point without becoming ill and also suffering a lot of dehydration that I’ve never experienced, even from perceived “easy” efforts. (As I sit here on the couch after yesterday’s 50 miles that for the majority was well executed, and an absurd amount of fluids taken in through recovery thus far, and still very much in the throes of severe dehydration and extremely uncomfortable). I overextended a tendon in my ankle back in August that still isn’t pleased, and I have an ongoing ITB/psoas issue (possibly linked to my old SI problems) that I need to get looked at…all on the docket to get addressed in my “abundance” of time.
I’ve had a few finishing lines this year, but I’ve had more DNFs than I’m pleased with. It’s been frustrating to say the least. More tears of anger at myself than I care to admit, and that I’ve shared with others. I’ve had to learn the limits of my body. When to push, when to stop, and how to accept those limits. I’ve never had to do that in my life because I’ve never actually HAD the desire to push my body to the brink–to see what I am fully capable of. And I’m BEYOND tired of platitudes and sad faces on social media to the point that I’ve contemplated more than once trashing those mediums, even with a tighter circle on some platforms. Thank goodness for the few I trust that can reel me in…I know many don’t understand that haven’t been in my position, so shares are perceived in many different ways than actual intent. It absolutely kills me when people have the expectation that I’m “supposed” to be upset when I say I’m fine or say “it’s okay” when I say something otherwise. No, it’s not okay if I’m not okay. I’m entitled to how I feel…anyway, different soapbox for a different time.
But, even in failure, I’m still breathing (an amazing Green Day song, BTW), and have accomplished a few things this year that I can be proud of:
I was reminded this morning in some reading that I was doing of this quote by Jennifer Dykes Hensen, “If you want to get healthy, you can’t focus on just your physical body. You can’t focus on just your mind or emotions either. Every part of your being is intertwined with every other part. Complete health will remain elusive until you take a holistic approach and address your entire self—body, mind, emotions, and spirit—as a whole. That said, your spiritual health is the foundation on which a life of wholeness is built. If you aren’t spiritually healthy, you will always struggle with your body, your mind, and your emotions. To get from where you are to where you want to be in any and every area of your well-being, you have to engage with God and take responsibility for your spiritual health.”
This is what I’ve been saying all along. It’s not just about the physical. This never started out to be a physical journey. I’m down to single digit days now in counting down to evicting the babymaker and I’m going to be entering my first “off-season” of movement since I started all of this. Not gonna lie. There’s fear. Not in the surgery (I’m actually morbidly excited for this because of everything it’s going to improve–literally the doctor ran out of room on one form for the laundry list of diagnoses necessitating the surgery on the consent forms last week. It’s time, lol), but for the downtime. It interrupts the routine. I like my routine. I like the comfort of routine.
But, in God’s infinit wisdom, it’s time to shake things up…change. I HATE CHANGE. (We all know this) So, it’s back to the drawing board–but, I have my foundations. I have my firm belief that being whole requires strong spiritual, mental/emotional, and physical health. And in building that foundation the last several years, I’ve got the people, places, and things that are going to get me through. There’s a plan. (And probably a few friends I’m going to whine, cry, and breakdown on in the meantime too, HA!). I’m going to physically heal. I’m going to focus my time and energy in some other areas and my body rests and heals, and personally and corporately/within the Body of Christ–God’s doing some big things too.
Not going to lie, this “season” scares me a bit. Okay, a lot. But the anticipation outweighs the fear. I’m ready to hit it square in the face and take the bumps and bruises along the way. Things will physically ramp up again after Christmas, but there’s a lot to look forward to non-sportswise too. God’s been working on me in a big way, and it’s time to shine off the race course.
I want the badassery (#sorrynotsorry, there’s really no christianized version of that word) that I feel when I kit up to translate over to everyday life. There’s a confidence, clarity, and freedom I have when I’m out training/racing that I want to shine through in the daily. I’m going to start fighting for that to come out of myself. I’m not “just a…” I’m worth more.