I think I've been able to isolate why I've taken on the challenge of a half marathon and decided to do it - my 'reason for doing'. It's really about a reason for being. I know that this might make it sound like fitness is my main 'raison d'etre', and my primary focus in my life: which is not the case. What I mean is that for me, working out has become a way to be - in the moment; connected to my own body; and sometimes, connected to my sister.
Sometimes it can be very energizing to remind myself 'why' I'm doing the training I'm doing, but sometimes it has the opposite effect. When my sister passed, in the months to follow my parents and I got into the habit of starting conversations with 'how did you sleep?' My mum was the first to notice and remarked how obviously, for all of us, our sleep had changed. Grief drains you, it takes every part of you and tries its best to suck energy from wherever it can - but with time, it begins to ease off. Unfortunately it can also create a quick and powerful feeling of exhaustion when it hits at a particular moment, and I've found myself struggling more than once on a run when a memory suddenly brings with it a feeling of sadness that latches onto my ankles and tries to get me to slow down, or stop.
I went for a 6km run on Sunday this week, and a song came up on a new playlist I'd downloaded and was trying out for the first time that immediately tried to weigh me down. My sister was a devoted fan of the long-running series 'Charmed', and although it wasn't necessarily my cup of tea, we sat and watched every single episode (she had the DVD collection) together over the span of a couple years. The opening song was 'How Soon is Now?' by The Smiths, and I'd randomly downloaded a remix of the original version. As soon as I heard the lyrics, months of sitting on my parents' couch in their basement came back to me, and I had to smile. My sister and I didn't have a lot of things in common, we didn't get the chance to grow into our own women and get over childhood disagreements through adult friendship as most siblings do - but we watched a whole lot of television together in that basement.
I was happy to have a reason to remember those bonding experiences with her, but of course along with it came the sadness. My first impulse was to try and push it away so I could keep going, but instead I remembered the value of confronting that feeling and letting it flow through me. I did, and I might have slowed down a little, but I kept going. I tried to tell myself that this - this feeling, these memories, her tribute - is a big reason for my being in that moment. I was kinda tired, very sweaty, but I had put myself in that moment for a good reason.
That day my mental coach was assisted by the words of Louis C.K. (comedian and increasingly, smart fellow) who explained on a segment with Conan O'Brien why he wouldn't give his kids smartphones: he wanted them to have moments of feeling alone or sad, and learn how to just deal with them, instead of letting themselves be distracted. Not only did his delivery make me laugh, but it hit home as well, and reminded me of Richard Rohr, whose book "Everything Belongs" was massively helpful when I was grieving the mostly deeply. I'll mention him again in the future, I'm sure.
Sometimes, when all I can think about it how long until I can take a short walking break again or how many more frigging burpees I have to get through or how many more pushups I have left, I get a bit more energy when I think to myself: you have good reason to be doing this. What I'm learning, and why I keep sweating and aching and pushing, is that in those moments I like how it feels just to be.
No comments:
Post a Comment