I would have been on my way to New Orleans by now, going to see a friend and his sweet family. And then doing a half marathon on Sunday. Oh that.
It was decided in March-- before I got sidelined with the shin splints that wouldn't quit, before my world got all unsettled in a move that I didn't expect. I remember running down in the cornfields, feeling free, knowing I could make it happen.
But clearly, it didn't. I haven't run in so long now that I'm not sure I could even do 1 mile, much less 13.1. (Though I'm getting a lot stronger and my endurance is increasing--so who knows. Maybe I could do two?) And he-who-trains has grounded me from running. (On days like yesterday, I was almost willing to do it anyway, and get the look, and deserve his ire. If only I hadn't given my word...I took a nap instead.) I guess I'm a little sad. At not seeing my friend whom I miss (but who may come this way around Christmas). At not taking a fun trip. At not accomplishing the thing that I wanted to do.
If I were doing the half like I'd so neatly planned, there are some things I wouldn't be doing this weekend. Like inviting my new church family into my home for a Christmas open house. Like training with my husband, who has joined me in this new life. (Really, really excited about that, but that's a post for another day.) Like strengthening my body and losing weight well.
I might've been able to do the half. But there's a good chance I would've hurt myself in the process. I might've been able to push harder and harder. I might've cried every time I walked.
I don't want that. I don't want to limp across the finish line just to check something off a bucket list. When I finally run the half, I want to cross the finish line having given it everything I have, knowing that I worked with my body, seeing that I was strong enough to do it well. I want to cross the line, grinning from ear to ear in a way that says "Booyah, World!" For me, victory is no longer just crossing the line and having done it. Victory is putting in the time and effort to transform my body, so that it does all the things my brain wants to do.
So, I'm not running a half this weekend. But that's ok. Because the girl who would've run it wasn't ready to do it well. And that girl, the one who would stupidly fight with her body instead of working with it, well she doesn't exist any more.