Forgetting how to make words

I recently wrote about how easily I decide to set my goals at the level that are unrealistically high, without putting in the time to actually be likely to achieve it. As a reminder, I had decided that I would beat my 10K time, without doing any speed work at all and after giving blood. Sometimes, I'm not the smartest cookie.

Just a week later, I already made a similar error. Apparently at some level I think I can just skate though situations and "persevere" without really planning for them. I don't believe that I do this with all things in life, but it definitely keeps occurring with running. 

I was really nervous for my 14 mile long run so I hydrated, made sure to get enough sleep, at and planned out what I would bring the next morning, and low and behold, it went well.

Then I got cocky. 

"15 is not that much than 14," I said to myself confidently. 

This psychological boost was fine. Its good for me to start telling myself double digit runs are no big deal, because soon I'll be doing quite a long one. 

The problem was, it was still the farthest distance I've ever tried to run.  And I did not take the time to prepare physically. I actually got some pretty bad back and leg pain on Thursday night after my weekly 7 time tempo run and it kept me up for about 3 hours. In my focus on that pain (I think based on WebMD, it may be sciatica pain), I was wondering if I may need to take another day off. But Saturday morning, I woke up and felt sore, but generally ok. So I went out the door. 

However, I neglected the basics. I went to bed late, hit snooze twice, drank only about a glass of water total (bad) and headed out the door. To top it off, I totally forgot the new water bottle I bought last week (they have water on the trail but sometimes it isn't frequent enough), I forgot to apply Bodyglide (stuff to reduce chafing), and I also only brought one GU packet (100 cals of instant sugar) instead of two.

The good news is, I'm much more calm as a runner than I used to be. Sometime between leaving the house and getting to the Lululemon store we meet at, I realized that I made some dumb mistakes and the odds of this run going well were slim to none. I didn't, however, beat myself up or freak out in the way I may have in the past. I acknowledged the reality of the situation, and told myself I could stop if my back pain flared up (which honestly I totally expected it would). 

I started running with a girl I met at the group and a mile into the run, I'm already sweating a ton. It was a super nice day, not super hot, but it was suuuunny. I was feeling okay, but was already thirsty (not good) and I think I somewhat expected my back pain to flare up. I had an almost nonchalance about the whole thing. Like, it is very unlikely that I'm finishing 15 today. Oh well (in sing-song-y tone). 

We hit mile 5, and I got these chest pains on my left side. This has been happening on and off over the past week and I am pretty sure its dehydration, because whenever I drink a lot throughout the day it completely goes away and I had been thirsty pretty much this whole run. All the same, it hurt and was just scary. I told Amanda to keep going, but she stuck with me and we walked for a bit. I feel fairly confident I would have quit had she left.

I stopped and drank a TON of water at the next water stop, so much that it was swishing around in my stomach when we started up and I thought I would throw up. But we perservered and I decided, mostly because we were almost to the 7.5 mile turnaround, that I was essentially walking back alone, or running back with a little chest pain, so we kept running. 

The awesome thing about running with a girl, is you can essentially fill up several long runs with relationship stories and talk. Before I knew it, we were within a mile of where I was planning to turn left and run through the city and to my apartment, and my chest pain was gone. 13 miles down! I told myself I could walk the 1.5 miles home and not go back to the Lulu store. I had done well enough.

Right before I made my turn, I had the strong experience of being unable to make words. I was trying to tell Amanda that I wished I had money so I could buy a drink from the Walmart in our building, and all I could say over and over was, "I wish I had water, water. I wish I had a dollar!" before finally mustering, "I wish I had money to buy water, ugh." 

Make words. Do things. Running that far does strange things to your brain. 

I said bye to my running partner and made my way past Millennium park. I stopped and stretched in a shady area of the grass. I was essentially in what felt like a semi-drunken stupor. Endorphins are crazy little buggers. I mean, I was in pain, for sure, my legs felt like they were being stabbed by little mini knives with each step. But the pain is kinda distant, almost detached, and in that moment I was honestly kind of in awe of how far I'd made it, I couldn't really think straight about anything.

After stretching, I decided I would run the 1.5 miles home, getting to 14.5 miles total. I started off, trudging my bricks for legs. Then on a whim, I found myself turning to go south instead of west. I just started running down random streets with a vague intention to cover that extra .5 mile. Hell, I made it this far why not complete what I intended. I got stopped by a light at the Harold Washington Library and checked my phone. 1.1 miles to our apartment. I checked Nike Plus running: 13.9 miles completed. 

Obviously, fate had intervened. And I had to run home. 

I remember trying to find streets that were shaded on that 1.1 home, and feeling like people who were not drenched in sweat and who didn't have dried salt all over their faces were giving me weird looks. I cannot be sure though. I also feel confident that my Nike plus running app kept the mileage count at 14.99 miles for well over .01 miles, as a cruel joke.

But finally, 15.0 miles completed and the voice on my app commended me for completing my longest run. Then Tim Tebow told me, 'Great job! Now hit the showers." Ok, Tim. If you insist.

As I walked into our building and got on the escalator, I almost laughed at the prospect of actually choosing to walk up this bad boy. Thank goodness it was not malfunctioning today.  I got to the door where we swipe our key card, and I kept thinking I needed my gym pass. Internally, I talked myself through, 'No Shawn, the little apartment key card, there you go... now walk forward, good...'

Then I almost started laughing out loud at my brains inability to function and had to pull it together because people were around. 

I trudged through our apartment door, to find Garrett still sleeping, just where I left him 4 hours ago. The throbbing ache in my back and legs was pretty intense but laying flat on the floor helped. And as I took my shower and rubbed off the salt, the chafing on my chest was actually not terrible considering the lack of preparedness.

Finally, at around 8:00pm, I'm finally feeling more like a normal person again and in less pain (drugs help). In my state of actually being able to put words to my experience today, I have up with these words: 

Having someone to support you helps a TON. 
I can perservere!
Endorphins/dehydration is similar to drugs.
And I have learned and WILL prepare for every long run in the future. Mark my words.

The Practice of Gratitude

I am reviewing some videos of when Dr. Brene Brown (one of my heroes) was on Oprah's Super Soul Sunday show. They are talking about the emotion joy and how there can be no joy without practicing gratitude. And how Brene believes after all of her research and study that it is actually the most terrifying and difficult emotion to experience; more so than shame, fear, or deep hurt. 

I heart this clip. Click here to view. (its only 6 minutes)

She discusses the idea of foreboding joy and often helps to explain what she means by asking parents to imagine looking down at their sleeping children, and allowing themselves to realize much they love them, and then asking them what they feel next. She talks about how common it is to feel fearful and then "rehearse tragedy," that is, to picture horrific things happening to take them away from you (I picture a large hawk swooping down and grabbing baby out of crib, but maybe its something a bit more real for people who actually have kids). 

But even though I don't have  children, I can definitely relate. Foreboding joy comes over me in a variety of ways. Recently I've noticed it in my work. I get these moments where I think about how amazing it is that I get to do something that I'm passionate about everyday, and then I feel fearful that somehow it will get "taken away." In my head, this typically takes the form of someone (including myself) discovering that I actually suck at my job and I will therefore find that I ruin people's life by somehow psychologically messing them up, or failing to be whatever it is that they needed me to be. Yep - my mind goes there.

And foreboding joy definitely occurs when I think about Garrett. Very early in our relationship, I knew just how freaking excited I was about him, and it scared the crap out of me. So much that I called several of my friends, telling them I didn't know if I could handle the uncertainty of what was going to happen (there were no real indications of anything except the fact that the relationship was going well, mind you, except maybe that he hadn't responded to a text and it had been a whole 45 minutes). I felt the fear of losing what we had so strongly, that it sent me bawling pretty uncontrollably as I paced up and down a section of the path along Lake Michigan. And several friends can vouch for this fact.

Brene says: When we lose our tolerance for vulnerability, joy becomes foreboding. 

I was SO excited that it at times was too much. I would picture things not working out in various ways and get sad, anxious, and mad about it. Then I would get pissed at myself for not being able to "enjoy this stage of the relationship" as so many people told me I "should" do. 

So what the heck do we do about this foreboding joy? Well, we learn from joyful people who are living wholeheartedly, of course.

Joyful people get that shudder too when they feel deep love for someone, and the uncertainty inherent in life that it may or may not last forever, but instead of "dress rehearsing tragedy"  (that was me imagining that Garrett would wake up one day and decide he no longer likes "emotional" girls and break things off), they practice gratitude.

Thinking back, there was one moment where I really did this. I was walking home from the train after work and like many days during those first several weeks, I was feeling anxious about the relationship. It had been about a month since our first date, and I was not falling, I had fallen. I knew from basically date #1 that this dude was great, and this was day #30 so I had basically been in love for 29 days (obviously, exaggerating a bit but you get the point). And Garrett, being the non-impulsive, diligent, level-headed person he is, did not move at the same pace. I would do the whole: "I really love spending time with you.... you mean so much to me..." fishing type of comments, hoping with all of my being that he would say, "Me too Shawn! And did you know that I'm deeply in love with you and want to spend the rest of my life with you?!" Then we would hug and kiss and feel secure and happy for the rest of our lives. Yay!! But he did not say that then. Instead he would say something that basically mirrored what I said, and was very heartfelt, but never went any further.

Intellectually, I knew things were likely okay, but my emotional self did not agree. My emotional self decided that feeling vulnerable and scared sucked, and it was pissed. Pissed at him for not being ready to confess the feelings that I had. And definitely pissed at myself for not "enjoying the moment." "I just can't relax!" I would admonish and yell at myself. Ugh.

The feelings of anxiety came and went, and it sure as heck was not comfortable. But on that day, as I turned the corner to the street of my old apartment, I remember noticing the feel of the sun shining on my face, and the tightness in my chest, and I took a deep breath and decided to lean into these feelings and be grateful. Grateful that I found someone who made me feel this deeply. Grateful for the excitement and uncertainty and vulnerable feelings I had. And grateful that I was alive and human and able to feel.

As I did this, I teared up, but not with sadness or fear, but with joy and gratitude for life and all the wonderful mix of feelings that it brings.

So, basically a year later, I practice gratitude again. Because as the video reminds us, it is a practice. 

My gratitude list could go on and on, but for today, I'll just pick a few. I am grateful for my ability to see and hear, so that I can read and watch videos, learn, and apply them to my life and to the lives of those I work. I am grateful for all those in my life, especially Garrett, who finally realized how much he loved me (ha), and who have supported me along this path to learning and coming to know myself better and better each day. And of course, I'm grateful for anyone who takes the time to read this as I reflect on my random thoughts and for allowing me to share this part of myself with you in writing. 

xoxo, S.