6. Just Watch Me
“It’s the journey, not the destination. Process over the result. Comparison is the thief of joy.” But what about when that is simply just not true? Am I a bad person for luxuriating in the result and getting high off of competition?
On Sunday, I ran my fourth marathon. It went amazingly well. I felt awesome the entire time. I kept saying to myself “This race is mine to lose” because everything was going to plan. My coach husband had charted out my pace for each chunk of the race. I was hitting my negative splits and then some. I feel slimy saying this but mile 19 was so satisfying because it was an uphill climb and everyone else was fading but I was just getting started. It feels unbelievably satisfying to pass men people who blew past you at the start. I kept it nice and easy and I knew it would pay off but I had to wait almost 20 miles.
I ran my first marathon over 10 years ago in October 2012. I ran it out of spite. I joined the club triathlon team in college and was super proud of myself for finishing my first sprint triathlon. I was bragging to one of my friends about how I had inspired our mutual friend to join the triathlon team at her school. I LOVE “claiming” responsibility/influencing the choices of others. Instead of patting me on the back, my friend something like “Yeah triathlons, whatever. Can you believe Sally has done a MARATHON?” I lost it. I immediately signed up for the upcoming Nike Womens marathon to prove to my friend that I was just as badass as Sally. I know that this friend has no idea that she is the reason I run marathons. I’m sure she wasn’t trying to be condescending. It’s worth noting that this friend has never run anything over a 5k fun run. So I had nothing to prove to her, but I felt COMPELLED to prove that I was worthy of respect. “Just watch me,” I said to myself.
So I trained all throughout the fall of junior year. I did my long runs every Saturday morning, regardless of how much I had drank the night before. My training was non-negotiable. I was really worried I wouldn’t finish if I didn’t stick to a training plan. My goal was just to finish. I didn’t have a specific time in mind. Finishing without walking was the goal. A few of my sorority sisters were running the half but no one else was doing the full. I would wake up and run all over the busy streets of Berkeley and Oakland. It was hard! It was solitary. It required commitment and determination.
The race itself was SO much fun! I cruised at 10 minutes per mile and sprinted the last half mile or so because I had gas in the tank. It was such an empowering experience. Completing that marathon is still one of my proudest accomplishments.
Soon after, I applied to work at the State Department (lol) and was asked to “List any special skills (e.g. computer), experiences, current licenses, honors, awards, special accomplishments, and/or training (with date completed) relating to the position for which you are applying.” I wrote about the marathon.
“Two weeks ago, I completed my first marathon. I am proud to say that is one of my greatest accomplishments. I have never been much of a runner but I love to stay in shape and be active. I ran my first half marathon last year and decided to make it my goal to run a full marathon the following year. I was afraid that I would injure myself so I decided to follow a strict training plan which laid out a certain number of miles for each day leading up to the marathon. I trained for over 200 days and never missed a day of training. I knew that if I was going to run this marathon, I had to fully commit. Each day I could feel my body growing stronger and more resilient. It was a wonderful feeling. When the big day finally came I felt confident and excited. As I ran 26.2 miles I smiled and laughed because I was having so much fun. I never “hit the wall” and felt as though I had energy to burn when I crossed the finish line. The run itself was incredible but I think I am most proud of the dedication and determination I gave to the training process. When I have a goal, I will do everything in my power to achieve it.”
And that’s the end of that lovely full-circle story - how cute! Not…there were two other “messy” marathons in between these two bookends.
A year after college, I decided I would run another marathon. I was feeling extremely lost and sad after moving to Portland not knowing anyone. I had just quit my first “real” job after only 10 months and had no clue what I wanted to do next. I needed a large goal to work towards. I signed up for a trail run in Bend thinking it would be fun. It was not fun. The training was great because it gave me a large sense of accomplishment. I love running because it is very tangible. I ran 20 miles today. I covered this exact distance in this amount of time. It’s concrete and you can point to it to validate your tenuous 23-year-old sense of self-worth. But did you know that beyond training you have to take other things into consideration? Like the fact this “fun” trail race would be at 5,500 feet elevation (with 2,000 feet elevation gain) and I lived and trained entirely at sea level? My goal was to break 4 hours. This is a 9-minute mile pace. Should be easy right? WRONG.
There were only a handful of us at the starting line. Hmm, this feels different from the race with 25,000 other women. Maybe this race won’t have the same energy as the streets of San Francisco. Maybe I will be alone with my thoughts in the middle of the Deschutes National Forest and I will trip over a root and have a total meltdown. Maybe I will be sucking air so hard in the first 3 miles that I will suddenly realize that I have made a huge mistake. I was not hitting my pace AT ALL. I was barely able to hold 10-minute miles. It was brutal.
At mile 20, I did not feel smug. I felt completely defeated. My family friends, both former impressive marathoners, were waiting for me at the finish line. I could not handle the humiliation. I tried to call my dad, who was also eagerly expecting my 4-hour finish, to tell him to send our friends home to spare me the shame. Fun fact: you don’t have great cell service in the forest! This inspired me to call my mother, who was sitting at home in California (why I was able to get through to California and not my father only a few miles away is unclear), and wail “I’M NOT HAVING FUN! I DON’T WANNA DO IT ANYMORE.” Oh dear. My mom calmly explained that no one could help me. I was in the middle of the forest and I had to just finish. With that, I completely changed my attitude and finished valiantly! HA! I ripped off my bib, too ashamed to have this terrible finishing time associated with my name (but somehow a “DNF - Did not finish” would be less shameful?), and hobbled to the end. Insipidly cheerful people would try to pump me up as they passed me. “You got this, almost there!” I wanted to body-check them but I was too tired. Needless to say, I did not PR that day. To add insult to injury, the wonderful team that put on the race called me that night to ensure I was alive since my bib never crossed the finish line. What a selfish little gremlin I was! People were worried about my safety! I lied and said my bib must have fallen off…
Running a marathon had become my whole identity. I talked about it constantly with my new coworkers. How could I have failed so miserably? I immediately signed up to run the Portland Marathon in 8 weeks. This time I would break 4 hours. Alas, I did not. I hit the wall at mile 23 and watched the pace group fade away from me. 4 hours, 2 minutes, 50 seconds. GODDAMNIT. I decided this was close enough and told everyone I had achieved my goal. I wouldn’t run another full marathon for another 8.5 years.
Is something unfinished until you reach your goal or is “just showing up and finishing” enough? That’s a rhetorical question obviously because I am only sharing this story now that I can say I ran a Boston qualifying time (even though the course I ran does not have its shit together and it is not a qualifying course).
I suppose this post feels a bit disingenuous. The whole reason I wanted to start this blog is because I want to document this “messy” time of my life. I have absolutely nothing figured out. Nothing is tied up neatly with a bow. It seems like all books and podcasts are filled with interviews of successful people looking back on their failures. And they can only share them because they are no longer failures. They were simply “stepping stones.” “Rejection is redirection.” I know a book about depression with no resolution wouldn’t sell. We want to read about growth. Reveling in your misery is not cute. I realize it’s not that binary. The content that I have been most drawn to lately is from those who are sharing about their experience “in the muck.” I cut myself off completely from my friends during that first year in Portland. I didn’t want anyone to know that I was regularly crying in the shower. How could I possibly share that?
I don’t think you need to scream about your pain from the rooftops, but I do wish I had been more honest about my experience at the time. Because I know I wasn’t the only one feeling that way. Even though I felt completely alone.
Sometimes when I catch up with certain friends, it feels like we are both doing our best to puff up and convince one another that we are doing okay. That our choices are the right ones. That our lives make sense. These conversations leave me feeling completely hollow. I have decided that if I want more authentic connection in my life, then I need to act more authentically. This has been excruciating because I feel like I am actively choosing to run around with no clothes on while everyone stares at me beneath their heavy down coats.
Nic Antoinette recently wrote about this same topic in her newsletter, “Wild Letters,” This is why we tell the truth:
It’s said that telling the truth can set us free, and yes, absolutely. But there is also the part of truth-telling that is not about us at all. Truth-telling as community care. Honesty as generosity. Naming the details of our lives as an offering on the altar so that others might find their own experiences nestled right alongside ours when they need it most.
Telling the truth is one of the best ways I know for us to belong to each other, a nudge to continue showing up for those small but profound moments of “oh thank goodness I am not the only one.”
Races are fun. Working to achieve a goal is noble. But papering over the truths that don’t fit neatly on Instagram is not truthful. It’s not generous. On Sunday, I ran a sub 3:30 marathon, a whole hour faster than my first attempt 10 years ago. I am proud of myself. I want all the likes. But I want to share the whole truth. Often, I run out of spite, to prove my worth to others. I compare myself to others and then decide if I am worthy based on where I fall in the rankings. I’m working on this. I’m working on not hating myself for not being perfect. It has taken me a long time to realize the reason my expectations never align with reality is that I expect perfection. I’m not sure if I can blame anyone for this affliction. If perfect is the goal, everything feels like a failure. It’s a very difficult way to live. I would not recommend it.
I am starting to try EMDR (Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing) in therapy. My therapist asked me what my strengths are (again) and I wanted to flip the table. I DON’T HAVE ANY THAT’S WHY I’M IN THERAPY!! I deflected and said “Please refer to the list I gave you in our first session.” Because I am a bossy little shrew. And she did! She read back what I said on day one instead of making me think of nice things about myself. My day one list is dumb. It’s mainly resume stuff like “organized.” I honestly blocked out the other ones. When she read them aloud I felt 1% better about myself. I thought “Oh that’s true, that’s nice.” Sadly, I can’t even remember what they were right now. Loyal? I suppose I should ask her to read them to me at the start of each session so I can remind myself that I am not a horrible waste of space of a human.
In my novel/memoir writing class last night, we had to describe the strengths and weaknesses of our main character. I feel insanely self-absorbed while I try to write down my strengths. Why is everyone attacking me right now and trying to make me list positive things about myself!?
Weaknesses? I can go all day!
She is headstrong to a fault and has never been described as “easygoing.” She often derails conversations with her compulsive need to “fully understand a concept” before allowing the conversation to move on to other topics. Her husband finds this particularly infuriating.
It was easier to think of and describe authors in memoirs that I have enjoyed.
5 good character traits
- acerbic, honest, sincere, driven…I couldn’t think of five…
5 bad character traits
- selfish, fake, insecure, greedy, cruel
5 Relatable character traits
- Struggles to take themselves seriously/can laugh at themselves, has something to prove/feels inadequate, wants to be a good person (isn’t sure if they are a good person…), humorous, honest
It’s abundantly clear that I value honesty. And that I am not sure if I am a good person. I will continue to remind myself that good does not equal perfect. You can be a good person and not be perfect. You don’t have to be perfect. I’m so quick to judge myself. To view this whole thing as navel-gazing. But no, as Nic said in Wild Letters, honesty is generosity. I may not be perfect, but I sure am generous!
Tags - Depression, Fear, Fitness, Running, Writing