THE LIL' RUNNER WHO COULD...

I stood in the middle of the room scanning each face staring back at me. “Hi guys,” I say as I lift my hand at a lame attempt at a cheerful wave, “I’m Sommer, but you already knew that.”  Soft chuckles fill the room and the doo doo brown metal chairs squeak in a Tin Man sort of way.  “As I go through this journey, I find that as I push myself to do more…be more…I get scared and I quit.  I suddenly realize I have an extra option.  It’s not just do it or don’t.  It’s do it, don’t, or quit.  I…am…a quitter.”

The room fell eerily still.  Even Rudy Clap Guy didn’t see the need to celebrate my breakthrough.  Nancy stood up and quickly wrapped her arms around me in that momma bear hug kind of way.  When she let go, she stares deep into my eyes and asks, “Ok. So now you have a choice to make. What will it be?” 

Good question.

When I was on the elliptical machine this morning, I worked myself until my legs hurt, (they are still kind of soar.  I’m sort of walking like a bowlegged cowboy) and the entire time I’m huffing and puffing I keep saying to myself ‘this is too damn hard’. My feet stopped moving but something had me pushing on.  It could be my competitive nature—always wanting to push myself to the point of no return—but either way I had the thought of quitting.  I don’t want to be a quitter.  When things get rough I don’t want to stop going.  I don’t want to, but most of the time I do.

I swear, on a hard day when the kids have totally smashed my last nerve, I have runaway from home in my head more than once.  When my son was first born I plotted my escape when I thought of the fact that I would be tied to him forever.  Forever worrying about another person, trying to teach them about life with no instruction manual is a very overwhelming thing for a 21 year old…but just like my battle with the elliptical, I stood there unable to move—willingly pushing myself to the point of no return.  Good thing too because he’s an amazing kid. 

I think I’m at that space right now.  I’m staring at this goal and I’m saying to myself  “I’ll never be able to do it!” but, just like with my children, my husband, my life as a whole, my goals are met just one bit at a time.  I look at myself at 90 and say, “I can’t live that long!” or I look at my husband and think “50 years?!  Never!” but so far I’ve made it to age 31 with no real mishaps and I’ve already knocked out 10 of the 50 years of marital bliss.  Little bites at a time is how it has to be done and I have to remind myself of that or I’ll go bananas (oh! Bananas…mmmmm…that sounds good).

I finished my workout a hell of a lot stronger than when I started.  I actually ate an exact 1 cup of cheerios this morning and didn’t feel like I was cheated.  I actually ate my snack and felt fine.  I actually let that elliptical kick my ass this morning and I lived to tell the tale.  I think I’m going to be okay, but I just have to believe that I’ll be fine.  I can’t give up on this one.  This one I can’t let go of.  I have to hold onto it for dear life because I really do think that when I accomplish the goal my life will be forever changed.  Wish me luck.

The Runner