It took a lot to not cry during a lot of it. I just kept thinking about all that I’ve lost, for what I thought I had but never really did, for my broken heart and for all the love I have felt in the last two weeks. I kept thinking about all the people that love and support me. I kept thinking that I had to finish because I could not give up on myself.
I kept thinking about him. How if he were still around, he wouldn’t have been down there supporting me. That what I thought I had with him, was what I wanted to see, not what was really there. I had ignored the fact that he really didn’t support me and that he really cared less what I did. Not just with running or with being healthy but with most things in my life. I am starting to see how detached from my life he had gotten. I am starting to see all the things I chose to ignore.
So I ran. And each time my foot hit the pavement I ran further and further from the life I had made up in my mind. The life I thought I had, but really never did. Or hadn’t for a really long time. I ran further from him and what he did to me. I ran and in the process making me something different. I thought as I ran, about all the things I thought I felt for him and all the things I now feel. I was pretty quite for most of the run, just thinking. I thought about how proud I should be. To have picked myself up and that I am still going. I thought about how I could have let him destroy me but I chose to love myself more then he ever could. I chose that I would not let him define me anymore. He doesn’t get to decide, I do. He decided that I wasn’t enough for him and that is fine because I am enough for myself. And I was enough that day to keep running despite my broken heart. I ran for my broken heart and I wanted to know that I would not give up on myself and my goals. Just because he’s gone, doesn’t mean that my life should have less meaning in it. Just because I am not a wife anymore doesn’t mean that I have no purpose. Just because he couldn’t love me, doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to love myself. I get to decide now what meaning there is in my life. And I cannot let him decide that there isn’t any left.
I have to say I thought I would feel more when I finished. I about lost it when we were approaching the finish line and hearing all the people cheer so loudly and feeling the accomplishment of what I was about to do. I had officially ran more then I have ever run or ever thought I could. I was able to pick myself back up after something I didn’t think I could survive. I started to cry and then it was hard to breathe so I told myself to stop. I told myself just get to that finish line and then you can cry. As my running partner reached for my hand, I stopped crying and we ran, hand in hand across that finish line. We got our medals and we hugged. Proud of what we did and proud we did it together. I know I couldn’t have done it without her.
Afterward I thought I would feel more. I thought I’d bawl, overcome with all the emotion I have been feeling the entire run. I thought I would be more proud. I thought I would feel more heartache, more happiness, more of something. I remember after any of my 5ks the pride I always felt that I finished. I never trained for those but I thought just the distance of what I was about to do would blow those feelings of pride out of the water. Maybe it is because of the training that 13 miles isn’t much more then the 11 I had run before in one of my long runs. Maybe it was being worn out from running for two and a half hours. Maybe it is because of the emotional lows I have felt the last three weeks, that the high I felt from the accomplishment wasn’t equal in magnitude.
Don’t get me wrong I am proud of what I did, what we did together. Not just for finishing the half-marathon but for doing it under the circumstances I did. I just thought I would feel more. Maybe as time goes by and the heartache subsides and it sinks in, I will. Maybe when my mind can grasp everything and let go of what he did, I can. Maybe it is all just too much for my heart to take right now. Maybe there is far too much heartache that it doesn’t leave much room for anything else. Maybe I am still too tired.
But I tell you this, in my new apartment I will find a place for my medal. I will hang it and look at it and it will symbolize that I am stronger then I know. It will remind me everyday that I can and will survive whatever life throws at me and that I am the only one who decides if I will let something hold me back. It does make me look forward to tomorrow and dream of what else I can achieve. Next up is the Living History Farms Off Road Race (7 miles, crazy terrain, climbing, muddy, and apparently so much fun) November 20th. A friend of mine asked me if I wanted to do it with her. Well my running partner asked me a while ago and I originally said no because I was going to do this annual craft fair that weekend. Unfortunately I think it will be just too much while trying to pack, stay up on my school work, and moving to get anything really done for it. So I decided with a heavy heart not to do that, so I might as well do something challenging that weekend to keep my mind off it. So I decided to do it. Why not? Gotta make the most out of the life I have left.
No comments:
Post a Comment