Reigniting passion
I had an epiphany last night. I am not sure what started it or where it came from, its one of those moments right before sleep. I lay in bed chatting to my husband about something when he asked me, ¨how old were you when you ran your first marathon?¨ I thought you knew this story I replied, I was 21. Then suddenly I found myself 30 minutes later recounting story after story of my good old running days. As I kept talking, I remembered more and more stories, getting caught in a blinding rain storm in the dark, in the country, in Geneseo and approaching some stranger´s house in the middle of nowhere rather than risk freezing to death. I told the story of when I almost lost my fingers after running 16 miles in a snow storm without proper snow gear or gloves. I started explaining where my desire and passion to run came from.
It came from a place inside me I didn't understand. It just always had to get out. I didn't have proper running gear back then. I had sneakers and sweatpants and t shirts. I didn't carry a cell phone, I didn't have an ipod or a cdplayer or anything. I would just lace up my sneakers, tie up my hair and get out of the house. I didn't map my courses, I didn't even wear a watch, I would just run and run and run. Usually get lost and then run some more. I loved the feeling, the freedom and mostly I loved the passion it ignited in me. I would create the best stories when I ran. I would write whole chapters of books. I would become anyone I ever wanted or dreamed to be. I created new stories for myself, I rewrote what I was doing. I would be a dancer, a singer, a writer, a researcher. I would envision my wedding, or my awards ceremony, I would win the Pulitzer prize or Nobel Peace Prize. I would come up with ideas for restaurants and NGO´s. The list goes on. I didn't get tired of running. I ran when it was freezing cold, raining, hailing, snowing, hot, humid. It became my thing. I would go for a run no matter what the occasion and sometimes had friends waiting for me to go to dinner, to do a project, to leave for a concert, I had friends drop me off in the middle of nowhere after watching the speedometer on the car count to the mileage I wanted to accomplish and I would get out of the car and start running.
I told these stories to my husband into the wee hours of the morning. He may have even fallen asleep at some point but I kept talking and thinking. I remembered my first marathon very clearly. I was injured from a very stupid fall after drinking too much on a Friday night. I was spending everyday in physical therapy strapped to machines or putting my foot in a bucket of ice to try to learn to walk on it again. One day I mentioned to the physical therapist, an avid runner, that I wanted to try and run a 1/2 marathon. I had never really run that far yet and I wanted to challenge myself. He laughed and said if you want to run, then run. A 1/2 marathon is silly, if you have to train for anything, train for a marathon. That´s the real challenge.
So I decided that day while I was still hobbling up hills at Geneseo College on crutches and couldn't bend my left foot that I would run a marathon in 3 months. I looked up a training plan, took a marker and a ruler and made a big calender for myself. I graduated from college on May 8, a few days after my 22nd birthday. I stuck around for another week and my parents drove up to Geneseo to pick me up and bring me to the Marathon which was in Buffalo, NY, two hours from there. It was the only marathon I could find in NY that was close to when I wanted to do it. I remember feeling completely sick to my stomach the night before the marathon, what have I done, I kept thinking? But I showed up the next morning and without music, water, energy bars or anything fancy, I ran. I ran 26.2 miles in 4hours and 25minutes. I spent 10 miles of the race talking to a 73 year old man who had run hundreds of marathoners. He shared his orange slices with me that his wife handed him at different intervals of the race. He taught me when to drink. I never stopped or walked, I just kept running. The race was quiet, only 400 people so at many times in the course you were completely alone. Just you and your thoughts. There was nothing like that feeling that day when I finished my first marathon. I didn't do it for anyone but myself. My parents drove me back home to my home time. I had graduated college and I was on my own again.
This feeling reignited inside of me and I wondered out loud what happened to my passion? Since that day I have run two more marathons, in San Diego, CA and one in Santiago, Chile. They were both amazing and inspiring. But I hadn't run a lot since 2011. I had done one 1/2 marathon and a handful of other 10ks and 14ks. Now I ran the same course whenever I headed out. I never ran for more than an hour and I knew where I was going and how to get home. I wore running gear. I planned ahead. I carried a cell phone and music. Sometimes tissues, water, food, credit card. I dreaded going sometimes. If it was raining or too cold I went to the gym instead or stayed on the couch. I had changed. Something had changed. Running wasn't about freedom anymore, it was about staying in shape. It was about being mad that I had sat for 10 hours working all day and wanted to move my legs for at least 30 minutes.
I kept thinking about this thought. Then I remembered other things I used to be. I used to love writing, I was convinced for several years I would one day write a book. I loved dancing, I took dance classes until 8 years ago. I loved sports, I played on tons of sport teams. I enjoyed piano and I was good at it. Now I have a keyboard that I dust once a week but no one has touched it otherwise in a year. I used to think I would have published by now some research inspiring the field of social work and social welfare. I imagined I would have created my perfect NGO. I would have discovered some new theories. I used to think so highly of what I could accomplish. I used to take time to do all the things I loved. Then in a very dark thought, I realized now I work 8 hours a day, I commute to and from work listening to stupid radio stations, I go to the gym if I get up the energy. I grocery shop, clean and cook. I spend time with friends in bars, restaurants and cafes. I go on vacation sometimes. I do lots of things, but not much of what I used to believe defined me. I often feel stale, stuck, uninspired, unmotivated, tired. I often think it means I need a new job, maybe a new apartment, maybe I should go to the gym more, maybe I should stop drinking. But last night I put my finger on it. A part of me has died. The innocent, young, inspired, passionate, I will conquer the world just let me at it girl hasn't shown up in a long time. I decided that it was time to find her.
From now I will live by these philosophies. Do something everyday that makes me happy. I'll see if I feel any different come a year from now.
It came from a place inside me I didn't understand. It just always had to get out. I didn't have proper running gear back then. I had sneakers and sweatpants and t shirts. I didn't carry a cell phone, I didn't have an ipod or a cdplayer or anything. I would just lace up my sneakers, tie up my hair and get out of the house. I didn't map my courses, I didn't even wear a watch, I would just run and run and run. Usually get lost and then run some more. I loved the feeling, the freedom and mostly I loved the passion it ignited in me. I would create the best stories when I ran. I would write whole chapters of books. I would become anyone I ever wanted or dreamed to be. I created new stories for myself, I rewrote what I was doing. I would be a dancer, a singer, a writer, a researcher. I would envision my wedding, or my awards ceremony, I would win the Pulitzer prize or Nobel Peace Prize. I would come up with ideas for restaurants and NGO´s. The list goes on. I didn't get tired of running. I ran when it was freezing cold, raining, hailing, snowing, hot, humid. It became my thing. I would go for a run no matter what the occasion and sometimes had friends waiting for me to go to dinner, to do a project, to leave for a concert, I had friends drop me off in the middle of nowhere after watching the speedometer on the car count to the mileage I wanted to accomplish and I would get out of the car and start running.
I told these stories to my husband into the wee hours of the morning. He may have even fallen asleep at some point but I kept talking and thinking. I remembered my first marathon very clearly. I was injured from a very stupid fall after drinking too much on a Friday night. I was spending everyday in physical therapy strapped to machines or putting my foot in a bucket of ice to try to learn to walk on it again. One day I mentioned to the physical therapist, an avid runner, that I wanted to try and run a 1/2 marathon. I had never really run that far yet and I wanted to challenge myself. He laughed and said if you want to run, then run. A 1/2 marathon is silly, if you have to train for anything, train for a marathon. That´s the real challenge.
So I decided that day while I was still hobbling up hills at Geneseo College on crutches and couldn't bend my left foot that I would run a marathon in 3 months. I looked up a training plan, took a marker and a ruler and made a big calender for myself. I graduated from college on May 8, a few days after my 22nd birthday. I stuck around for another week and my parents drove up to Geneseo to pick me up and bring me to the Marathon which was in Buffalo, NY, two hours from there. It was the only marathon I could find in NY that was close to when I wanted to do it. I remember feeling completely sick to my stomach the night before the marathon, what have I done, I kept thinking? But I showed up the next morning and without music, water, energy bars or anything fancy, I ran. I ran 26.2 miles in 4hours and 25minutes. I spent 10 miles of the race talking to a 73 year old man who had run hundreds of marathoners. He shared his orange slices with me that his wife handed him at different intervals of the race. He taught me when to drink. I never stopped or walked, I just kept running. The race was quiet, only 400 people so at many times in the course you were completely alone. Just you and your thoughts. There was nothing like that feeling that day when I finished my first marathon. I didn't do it for anyone but myself. My parents drove me back home to my home time. I had graduated college and I was on my own again.
This feeling reignited inside of me and I wondered out loud what happened to my passion? Since that day I have run two more marathons, in San Diego, CA and one in Santiago, Chile. They were both amazing and inspiring. But I hadn't run a lot since 2011. I had done one 1/2 marathon and a handful of other 10ks and 14ks. Now I ran the same course whenever I headed out. I never ran for more than an hour and I knew where I was going and how to get home. I wore running gear. I planned ahead. I carried a cell phone and music. Sometimes tissues, water, food, credit card. I dreaded going sometimes. If it was raining or too cold I went to the gym instead or stayed on the couch. I had changed. Something had changed. Running wasn't about freedom anymore, it was about staying in shape. It was about being mad that I had sat for 10 hours working all day and wanted to move my legs for at least 30 minutes.
I kept thinking about this thought. Then I remembered other things I used to be. I used to love writing, I was convinced for several years I would one day write a book. I loved dancing, I took dance classes until 8 years ago. I loved sports, I played on tons of sport teams. I enjoyed piano and I was good at it. Now I have a keyboard that I dust once a week but no one has touched it otherwise in a year. I used to think I would have published by now some research inspiring the field of social work and social welfare. I imagined I would have created my perfect NGO. I would have discovered some new theories. I used to think so highly of what I could accomplish. I used to take time to do all the things I loved. Then in a very dark thought, I realized now I work 8 hours a day, I commute to and from work listening to stupid radio stations, I go to the gym if I get up the energy. I grocery shop, clean and cook. I spend time with friends in bars, restaurants and cafes. I go on vacation sometimes. I do lots of things, but not much of what I used to believe defined me. I often feel stale, stuck, uninspired, unmotivated, tired. I often think it means I need a new job, maybe a new apartment, maybe I should go to the gym more, maybe I should stop drinking. But last night I put my finger on it. A part of me has died. The innocent, young, inspired, passionate, I will conquer the world just let me at it girl hasn't shown up in a long time. I decided that it was time to find her.
From now I will live by these philosophies. Do something everyday that makes me happy. I'll see if I feel any different come a year from now.
- Play a sport
- Play piano
- write
- work on a new research idea for work
- read
- take a dance class
- work on my business idea
- make a video of pictures and videos from my travels
- learn a new skill
- study french
September 2014
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