Fill Your Soul, Not Your Plate

I have never been a runner. In a zombie apocalypse, I would be the first to go, for sure. I blame it on my asthma and bad knees (I sound like a grandma, I know). I used to want to run though; I thought it looked cool and would make me feel fit. I tried over and over again and just couldn’t seem to make it past about 30 seconds without clutching my insides and needing a knee brace.

A few years ago I signed up for a “fun run” with a good friend of mine. I mistook this event for actual fun because I thought there would be walkers and runners. There were small children, older folks, and every age in between. Surely I would not be the only one walking.

My friend and I make it to the starting line, are chatting and laughing and just overall enjoying the time outside, when the gun rings out to begin. We both start to walk forward when everyone around us immediately starts running. Suddenly, we are standing near the starting line by ourselves because everyone in this “fun run” is actually running. I’m not kidding. The 80 year olds. The seven year olds. All running. All ahead of us.

We look at each other in panic, what do we do now? Well, obviously, we have to pick up our pace or we are going to not only be the last ones to cross the finish line, but we’ll make the entire event staff wait another hour just for us. We start running, but we’re still in last place. By a lot. We are struggling to breathe. We are cramping. We are sweating. We are losing, hard.

We switch to really fast walking, because running proved to be potentially life-threatening. We are apologizing to the event staff who have to walk behind the last “runners.” We thought this was supposed to be a walk; we thought this was supposed to be fun.

We’re only halfway through. Oh dear god what have we done. We can’t just stop right now, that’s more embarrassing than finishing last. We have to speed this up, though. We round a corner and realize, if we cut through this grassy area, we will add several minutes to our time. We can meet up behind the other runners on that side, sure we cheated a little, but clearly we won’t be winning anything, so does it really matter? As we start to cut across we see everyone is picking up their pace. Since the finish line isn’t too far off, I guess everyone stored a little up in their tank to use at the end. Not us.

Our tanks are on straight E, and we both have probably 3 minutes we can run in total. We fast walk across that grassy area and continue that walk/jog combination for a few minutes until we finally have the finish line in our sights. A mom with two small children just crossed. Two. Small. Children. We are the last ones left in the race. I am not joking. I hold back tears; we look at each other and know that those 3 minutes we have in our bodies to run will have to be used up now. We have to cross that finish line with dignity.

We start to run and I know I’m going to regret it. I know I will not be able to breathe for probably the next hour. I am already cramping. My knees are sliding in and out of the sockets. We somehow manage our way across the finish line, dead last, panting, and are welcomed with a medal and cheers from the crowd. A participation medal, which I have never deserved anything less in my life.

Looking back on this moment, I can finally laugh (mainly because I know now that I survived) because I learned the embarrassing way that running is just not my thing. And that’s ok. I hate it. I want to like it, but I just don’t.

Once I gave up on running, I found my love of weight training and spin class. I actually enjoy these things, and I look forward to doing them. I don’t have to make excuses or ice myself for days afterwards; they are ways I can fulfill my fitness goals while also living a life I like waking up to.

In my last blog post I talked about getting started with a dream or a hobby you’ve always wanted to try. The hard part is making sure you find one that you actually want to keep pursuing. You may have always wanted to try painting to tap into your creative side, but when you get into it you realize you are just plain bored. This doesn’t mean you have to give up on everything creative, you just now know to try something different. Maybe you’ll love photography, instead. You don’t have to give up on your dreams; you may just need to adjust how you reach them.

A hobby or a dream should be something that fills up your life cup, not drains it. If you’ve been struggling with something you thought you loved, or you wanted to love, take a step back and see if there’s another way to achieve it. Replenishing your soul should not feel like a chore.

If you haven’t found it yet, keep trying. Keep saying yes to new opportunities. Still get started on those dreams, but be open to how you might reach them. I had to be face-to-face with a mini marathon (it felt like a marathon, ok?) for me to see that running was not how I wanted to reach my fitness goals. This is your life. Your dreams are yours, and there are several paths you can take to reach them.

So be bold, babe, and find the path to your dreams that fills your soul, not just your plate.

xoxo

Bold Babe