Surrender

I recently read a post by a yoga blogger who was talking about surrender.  She discussed what it was in her life she was feeling the need to "surrender" to and it made me think about the term in relation to my own life.

The answer to the question didn't come to me until I was out on a run last week.  I need to surrender to the cold.  In one week I begin my training plan for my very first half marathon.  And all of my training will take place in the coldest winter months.  What in the world was I thinking????

It's been a little better since I made this decision.  I've quit checking the temperature on my phone before going for my morning run; I just take my dog out and let my body tell me what I think I need to put on.  I always put on my warmest running hat and gloves, knowing I can take them off if not needed.  And then I try not to think about it anymore, get out the door and GO, accepting that I will be cold until mile 2. 

This routine served me well one morning last week when I got up to take doggie out and discovered it was snowing! That wasn't in the forecast.  My immediate first thought was "treadmill", followed by "I could fall",  but I pushed those thoughts away and just thought about how pretty it was.  Came in, got dressed and headed back out.  It WAS pretty, so quiet, peaceful.  Beautiful.  When I got back and looked at my phone, it said temps were 15 with the wind chill. Had I looked at that before running, I would never have went.

I am also trying to surrender to "just being me"...at least in the context of running. I'm always just trying to be me, but with running I've been doing that horrible habit of comparison.  And it just doesn't work.  Mentally I know this, but was recently handed a huge serving of humility physically to make sure I get the point.

I went to a group run on Saturday that was sponsored by the half marathon I've signed up for.  It's a run on parts of the course that the race will be on, which is crazy hilly.  So I know I need to practice on the course.  But it's so hard to show up (for me) for runs where I know no one.  But it said there would be different routes (4, 7, 10) and different paces for all.  So I make myself go.  In the rain. 

And guess what? Only those damn hardcore runners show up in the rain.  15 people, including me.  Everybody wants to run 10 miles.  Except me.  Everybody wants to run a 9 minute pace.  Except me, can't.  So....they tell me I can go the 4 mile route, they will show me where to go when we split up.

I manage to stay at the back of the pack for the first half mile or so by running my fastest half mile ever, completely motivated by shame, but knowing that I can't keep it up.  The race director guy hangs back at first and tries to be nice, chats me up, tells me where to go for 4m loop, then he gets tired of running so slow and goes ahead. 

The pack keeps pulling further away and it makes me feel awful. A couple of runners go on the 4m loop with me to show me the way, but they have to keep doubling back to really talk to me.  It's humiliating.  I'm thinking things like "I'll never come to this training run again!" "Why in the world do I think I can run a half?" "Are these people laughing at me in front of my back?".  But then I get mad at myself for being so negative.  I can't help the pace I run at.  It's my pace.  It's the best I can do at this time.  Maybe I will get faster the longer I do this, maybe I won't.  But at least I'm doing it!  I think of one of my favorite bloggers, John Bingham, who writes about coming in LAST in many races, but still he ran.  He's ever written running manuals! His nickname is the Penguin because he is so slow!  But he runs, and he enjoys it. 

So, yes, I will go back to these training runs.  I will be the one at the back of the pack.  I will be the one yelling "car back" if a vehicle approaches from my direction.  I will be the one making everyone else feel good about their current pace.  I will be there in rain or snow.  (But not sleet)  And I will finish that damn race in as many hours as it takes and I'll have a medal around my neck just like those 9 min people!