Especially because I can't really tell them perhaps the biggest reason without a long explanation.
Why would I rather push myself to the limit rather than sit on the couch and enjoy the cushions?
Yes, the sights, especially in the peaks, are breathtaking, and the connection with the outdoors is life-affirming. A large part of it is the evenin' breeze touchin' your skin, the gentle sweet singin' of leaves in the wind, the whisper that calls after you in the night and kisses your ear in the early moonlight (thanks Heart).
But there's something else, there, too, and I'm afraid it's more of a reason than it should be.
I like to feel like a badass.
That sounds so arrogant. In fact, it's the opposite.
Now you can see the need an explanation.
Here goes.
When I was a kid, I was picked on ruthlessly. I still can't tell you why. They picked me last in kickball. It peaked in junior high school. And though it shouldn't, that shit sticks with you.
I remember staring in amazement the first time I hit a ball over the centerfielder's head for a home run. Yes, it was a softball, but me doing anything athletic at all flabbergasted me. As it turns out, I ran the mile in 6:15 in P.E. near the end of my time in junior high hell. It silenced a few, and I began to lift weights, which silenced a few more, and that's probably why high school was actually fun.
Regardless, the shit still sticks, and I scarcely believe in myself when it comes to sports.
So I have to prove it to myself.
Over and over.
Many times, when I'd climb the toughest peaks, I'd summit and take in the sights, and then I'd smirk a bit. I actually liked it when I scraped myself up. We called those wounds souvenirs. You know, like a badass.
Most of the time, when I cross the finish line, I smirk a bit as well. Pretty good, I'll think, and I feel like a badass.
A couple months ago, I made a decision after years of putting it off. I talked to my closest friends, who are, of course, all badasses. My running partner sent me a schedule.
Today was the first day of following it.
Now my life is a series of numbers. Two-a-days. May 9. 26.2.
My first.
I feel like a badass just writing that.
Maybe, finally, that feeling will last beyond the finish line.
7 comments:
the girl who was bullied as a kid, but now wears leather and rides a motorcycle totally understands.
Badassedness rules!
Awesomeness.
Sick goal my friend, sick! And of course we both know you'll nail it.
Best of luck with the training. You'll need what, a 4-hour playlist? Maybe I can help with that. :)
Well, as the girl who was skinny, smart, the teacher's pet, and had zero athletic ability, I too, can relate. While it shouldn't matter, the fact that only one guy in my school actually found me attractive and wanted to date me still sticks with me.
You get your badass from standing at 14,000 feet - I get mine from kicking ass in the business world and knowing not one of those high school punks could touch me now.
We rock.
Yes, Blood, yes please. Any new suggestions would be much appreciated. My running playlists tend to feature a healthy slate of metal music, as that's what gets me through the pain the most.
I totally understand. That's part of my motivation is to get my badassness back. I too was picked on ruthlessly until about junior year in high school when the many years of swimming, weight training and puberty got me to that point. I miss that feeling.
Congrats! But do you really need two a days for your first marathon?
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