First, I acknowledge that I haven’t blogged on this site since 2018. It was pre-pandemic when my household had two fur children, and we were headed from Montgomery to Atlanta. So much has happened in the six years since. Three states (GA, MD, and now NC), three schools, two choir participations, lots of life experiences, and now settling in after a year in Charlotte…. Last week, I read a stunning personal narrative that made me go down a rabbit hole of my former posts and reminded me how much I love writing about life…so here I go…
I’ve been running a bit more lately. Last weekend was the longest I’ve run in a year, and it was a whopping 5.23 miles. I was incredibly intimidated by the 200+ runners at the local club run, and my social anxiety was on full tilt. But then I started running. It was a beautiful creekside trail. Like most runs in the last year, I was by myself–not many folks run as slow as I do or do a run/walk in the hopes of preventing yet another injury–but there were many people and no way to get lost. I settled into a pace, listening to an audiobook, which at one point made me laugh so hard I had to pause. My goal was simple, get to five miles. I saw ahead a water stop, and even though it would’ve put me slightly over 2.5, I kept going. It was such a gift to see a running acquaintance there and be able to connect before traversing back.
For about fifteen years, running was my everything. My social circle, my focused practice, where I spent my time and energy. I was a runner, running coach, and running supporter, and most of my friends were running people. I even ran fairly quick for a while. But more than anything, I ran long. So much of my self-worth was wrapped up into my running.
So, about ten years ago, when the bottom dropped out of the world, my running changed. I became inconsistent and injured. I coached a little while and tried running long still, but I just lost it piece by piece. And I lost a huge part of myself in the process. While I was trying to figure out who I was as Sarah as supposed to Sarah & Ken, I grew deeper into a hole of physical decline. The loops of “plan run-don’t show up (for lots of reasons)-feel guilty” became more frequent and fierce. When I reached Charlotte a year ago, I recognized the pattern and how it was harming my sense of self. So, I completely stopped running for six months. I didn’t try; I didn’t plan. I didn’t put running on the calendar and then not show up. I just didn’t. I took the many months to consider who I am with and without running. I am many things: a teacher, a student, a reader, a dog-mom, an aunt, a chorister, a Wingnut, an Episco-nerd, and I am a runner. I finally wanted to be a runner again.
Then summer came when the life of an administrator became just a bit more civilized. I could join up for the 6:15 run and still safely make it to work by 8. (A luxurious hour later than the school year.) I remained very clear that my primary goal was to show up and start. My secondary goal was to keep from getting injured. (I honor that my current physical size and continued challenges with the great bounce house back injury of 2022* have a huge impact here.) So I set the goal. Six coffee runs in three weeks before the schedule changed. And I made it. I actually squeaked out seven. People were generous with their welcome and Strava likes. My introversion + social anxiety + Enneagram 5 + general weirdness make it so hard for me to connect sometimes, but runners are amazing people.
I started at the back of the pack on Saturday, and because I was running shorter than most, I turned around and was pretty much done before the main packs came home. But that was fine. The win was the showing up. The win was what I needed to keep reminding me that it is a molasses-slow road back, but I have the strength and know-how to get there. Thank you to everyone who has seen me, the real me, on this wild and wonderful journey on the pavement and beyond. Let’s go run.
*this is a fun, over-coffee story. 10/10 don’t recommend this injury.
RunSingTeach 