Go The Distance

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Only four minutes in and I can feel my body blaring MAYDAY MAYDAY! My breathing is labored as my heart beats like the wings of a hummingbird. The tightness at the top of my calves reminds me how I ended my stretching way too soon. I should stop to (re)stretch my leg muscles properly but I know I won’t do it. I can’t. If I halt my current pace of motion then that’s it – I’m dunzo. I just don’t have enough mental let alone physical motivation to get my body fired up again. So I push forward and eventually find my stride and secretly hope I can finish my workout running (not walking). It would be a stretch to say there was a 50/50 chance.

As you can see my relationship with running is complicated. Decades ago in elementary school my side would ache terribly while running in P.E. class. I searched for others who appeared to run as if they were covering a bullet wound with their hands. Sadly for my pride sake I couldn’t find a single one. Back then it became crystal clear that I just wasn’t good at this activity. My running skills would never earn a first place medal so I made it my goal to never come in last. Which I did – (cough) most of the time. Although now thinking about it maybe physical exertion wasn’t the best thing to do right after lunch?

There is just something about this activity that is boring, discouraging but at the same time calls to my soul. I’m afraid of it but at the same time also I know have to do it, and I really can’t explain why. Every ounce of my being fights against every second of it. My brain working overtime to think of every reason to give up while also encouraging me to continue on.

“If I stop now I’ll just run an extra 10 minutes next time.”

SECONDS LATER….

“I think I can make it through two more songs.”

AFTER THE 1st SONG….

“I don’t think I can make it through the next song.”

As I’m at war with myself deciding what to do – SUDDENLY…

“Oooohhhhh I like this song I’ll just.keep.going.”

Believe it or not there was a time in my life that running and I became very good friends. It happened my junior year in high school and was something very unexpected. A friend who was also a cross country runner invited me to join the team. Initially I laughed because ME the person who struggled just running down my street would even attempt it.

But I did.

At first it was because I really didn’t have anything better to do. Honestly I thought I would show up a few times and once it was obvious to the coach I didn’t belong it would all be over. Except that didn’t happen.

Don’t get me wrong I struggled. I’d show up to the track right after school and and the team would start with a 2 mile warm up. 2 whole miles! Let me tell you there was a lot of running/walking taking place. While all the others seemed to glide through it with ease. After the warm up we’d run through the neighborhood for the next 45 minutes and that’s where the fun truly began. My side ached big time and there was major huffing and puffing going on. The truth was I NOT a runner in any way. Short distance, long distance or anything in-between – I just plain sucked at it.

Everyday I showed up and everyday was surprised when the coach would say “see you tomorrow”. I waited for the moment where he would let me know this just wasn’t my thing and cut me. Except (again) that didn’t happen.

We’d participate in 5k runs every weekend which continued to highlight my horrible athletic ability. At my first attempt I wanted to disappear, and in a way I did. One by one I watched as runners passed me by, and eventually realized I was alone on the road. Flooded with embarrassment wished I was anywhere else but there. I seriously considered walking off the path and secretly joining the crowds of people watching the race. Not a bad plan huh?

I noticed a stop sign in the distance and told myself “just get to it”. I only focused on the sign. When I approach it I want to jump for joy but instantly set my next goal: the tree. I pushed the all the noise out of my head and only the tree existed to me. My mental game advanced me forward until I finally saw the finish line in the distance. Oohhh I’m so close now! The last 500 feet I automatically start to sprint. My final burst of energy was solely sheer determination. Crossing the finish line my body is in pain and I experience a swirl of emotions: relief, humiliation, happiness, shock but there’s something else.

I’m proud of myself.

Although I couldn’t keep my childhood vow to not come in dead last – most importantly I didn’t quit. Believe me the entire time on that road I thought of nothing else. I pushed through my pain, frustration and lack of self-confidence. I accomplished something I never believed I could do.

The truth is I didn’t finish the cross country season as a top runner. I did, however, ended it feeling like a champion. When I started didn’t have the stamina to run nonstop a couple hundred feet. By the end of the season I could confidently run continuously for 11 miles! Now I realize that may not sound like that much to you. For me it was a glorious miracle. I went from hobbling like a blind 3 legged dog to feeling like I could glide across the United States like Forrest Gump. (No offense intended towards all dog or Gump-lovers out there).

My point in sharing all of this is to say – the ONLY thing stopping you from achieving the impossible is YOU! Life inevitably brings surprises that aren’t necessarily welcomed. So what’s your story? Mine includes: sexual abuse, abandonment, physical abuse, neglect, emotional abuse, death, rejection and this is just the short list.

Going the Distance is a boxing term that means to fight a full bout without being knocked out. Maybe you get knocked down but (unless you choose) it isn’t over.

The Shawshank Redemption, Erin Brockovich, Million Dollar Baby, Glory, Stand and Deliver, & Rudy

These are all movies that have truly touched my soul and have special meaning to me. The characters in each story face impossible situations. Although they lack talent, ability or power to change their position but it doesn’t matter. In their heart and soul they desire to change their future and their legacy. Just like me.

Fighting against years of abuse and betrayal is really hard. It takes more than just making a decision to do it. You have to make that decision everyday. While you see the impossible odds staring you in the face – you choose to stare back. If you do it long and hard enough one day the eyes of the impossible will look away. You will struggle, be discouraged and at times feel alone.

Truth is I cringe when I walk into my gym and look at the treadmill. I know what waits for me there. I hate the process but love the results, and let me tell you I’m still a work in progress. I may not show up everyday or at times even regularly, but I haven’t quit. I may continue to get knocked down but I will go all twelve rounds until I hear the final bell ring.

My healing and ability to change the course of my future requires action. Sometimes I must be strong, bold, concentrated and extraordinary. Which means I will be faced with fear, dread and undoubtedly pain. When it all looks hopeless ya gotta choose to believe that the impossible is not far behind.

I choose to Go The Distance to create the legacy that was always meant for me – for my children – for my grandchildren – and generations to come. I want them to see their mom and Mimi as person who victoriously rode tidal waves. A person who encouraged them to do the same.

So (for me) each and everyday it always begins with the power of choice.

Time to Breathe

Perspective has saved me from many stressful or intense situations in my life.  Things happen unexpectedly that can cause fear, anger, and confusion.  “Why me?” or “why now?”  A tailspin of emotions that can trigger negative outcomes if you allow it.  Maybe the better question is “what now?”  The summer before my Sophomore year my family moved to a small Texas town of five thousand.  I went from attending one of the largest schools in Arizona to a very small christian school in Texas.  The entire 7th through 12th grades fit into one classroom, and it was tough adjustment on so many levels.  Did I mention at my mom was now my teacher at my school?!  I didn’t like the changes on every level but instead of fighting it – I accepted it.  It was the price I paid to be a thousand miles away from the people who sexually abused me.   So I didn’t complain and made new friends and even decided to try new things.  I joined the cross-country team, and the local 4-H club and even took extra classes in school.  I was determined to get ahead of my class requirements and coast through my senior year.

I fully embraced my new life and decided to make a new start.  I had squeaked by my freshman year of high school.  I completely rebelled against any kind of school work, studying or anything that had to do with academics.    I should have completely failed the entire year, but I would ace my finals and pass all my classes with a very low D.  Although I was against the to move to Texas I also wanted to escape.  A chance to walk away from my past and painful memories and become someone new.  An opportunity to bury my former existence and create a new identity.  Living in a small town meant fewer distractions and so I focused on my new future.  I had little control of my life but recognized I could apply myself in school and become an excellent student.

So I did.

I enjoyed looking through catalogs of class options.  I packed my class schedule as far as it would stretch.  A majority of my time was spent reading, studying and taking tests. I repeated most of my freshman classes to raise my GPA.  My goal was to work hard to coast through my senior year.  Each high score and earned credits fueled my desire to continue to excel.   The curriculum at my new school was self-paced so I began to crank out the work for the next two years.  I loved it.  At the end of my junior year I was awarded with the highest GPA and Perseverance Award.  It was the first time I was ever recognized academically for my hard work.  My nose was stuck in books for so long that I was surprised to hear my name called that night.  It was proof my life in Arizona was slowly starting to fade away.

Imagine my surprise when the summer before my senior year I learned we were now moving to Dallas?  I was completely floored.  I had finally adapted to living in a small town, new school, new church, new life.  Let me tell you it wasn’t easy but I had done it and actually liked it.   So now here we go again!  Packing our bags and heading north to the City of Dallas.  As much as I missed living close to shopping malls, movie theaters and chain restaurants I didn’t want to go.  I was upset to uproot once again and leave my newfound life now that I was finally settled and in place.  How many more times would I have to do this?  I didn’t know.  I asked my parents if I could stay to finish my senior year and continue to live with my aunt.  I had already asked her and she had agreed.  They firmly said no but I was allowed to stay behind until school started in the Fall.  It wasn’t the answer I hoped for but it was something – and so I agreed.

I waited until the last possible minute to go to Dallas.  The thought of starting over was overwhelming to me.  The christian school I transferred to was much larger and I discovered their credit requirements was more.  My heart sank deep into the pit of my stomach.  This meant I could kiss my easy-breezy senior year goodbye!  I was pissed! Even with a full schedule I was still one health credit short.  Are you fricken serious?!  All that hard work and now it felt like it was all for nothing!  I wanted to scream but I couldn’t so I just pushed all those feelings down deep.  This introverted loner now had to try to acclimate to her new surroundings and attempt to make new friends – all while trying to fulfill the credit requirements.  I went from coasting my way through my final year of high school to wondering if I’d graduate on time.

I couldn’t see back then my abuse was beginning to scab over.  Which was now possible because the sexual abuse had completely stopped.  No more unexpected visits from my aunt or uncle at my home.  Or unwanted advances from other family members at family gatherings.  That era had ended and I had survived it.  Sadly it was far from over, but I just didn’t know it yet.  My sexual abuse started when I five so I had to wait until I matured to completely grasp what actually happened to me.  For eight years the abuse was such a regular and normal part of my life.  It is still surreal today to think about everything that happened actually took place.

I now have a four-year old grandson who has such a free-spirit and beautiful soul.  I appreciate his humor and his sweet innocence.  My deep love and adoration for him came from a place I never knew existed until he was born.   There are moments that brings tears to my eyes when I look at this precious boy.  I think about my little girl at the same age.  She didn’t know the pain, misery and torment that would soon appear only a year later. So young, innocent and unprepared for where life would take her.

I underestimated how strong and powerful abuse can envelop and possess you.  It only hands out life sentences and so you have to fight like hell for freedom.    Now one year and one thousand miles away from the horrors – life now felt manageable .  All I desired was to forget the past but it’s impossible.  Running will never heal you.  The next few years in Dallas would become a pivotal and important time in my life.  God heard my cry and gave me a gift – I became an average teenager living an average life.  Although compared to my life before this was WAY above average for me.  I embraced my new school and was given extraordinary friends.  I flourished in school and played on the volleyball and basketball teams too.  I quit trying to forget the past or work hard on becoming someone new.   I was happy.

The next few years changed me in ways I could never fully explain with mere words.  My new life was antibiotic to the deep wounds in my broken heart and body .   As I now look back on that time I can see things were aligning themselves and equipping me for the longer battle ahead.  It’s where I first began to heal and grow.  Hope for the impossible began to sprout and I finally felt safe.  I discovered I could drop my defenses and just breathe.

So I did.

Oh and by the way I graduated on time too 😉

Time to Breathe

Perspective has saved me from many stressful or intense situations in my life.  Things happen unexpectedly that can cause fear, anger, and confusion.  “Why me?” or “why now?”  A tailspin of emotions that can trigger negative outcomes if you allow it.  Maybe the better question is “what now?”  The summer before my Sophomore year my family moved to a small Texas town of five thousand.  I went from attending one of the largest schools in Arizona to a very small christian school in Texas.  The entire 7th through 12th grades fit into one classroom, and it was tough adjustment on so many levels.  Did I mention at my mom was now my teacher at my school?!  I didn’t like the changes on every level but instead of fighting it – I accepted it.  It was the price I paid to be a thousand miles away from the people who sexually abused me.   So I didn’t complain and made new friends and even decided to try new things.  I joined the cross-country team, and the local 4-H club and even took extra classes in school.  I was determined to get ahead of my class requirements and coast through my senior year.

I fully embraced my new life and decided to make a new start.  I had squeaked by my freshman year of high school.  I completely rebelled against any kind of school work, studying or anything that had to do with academics.    I should have completely failed the entire year, but I would ace my finals and pass all my classes with a very low D.  Although I was against the to move to Texas I also wanted to escape.  A chance to walk away from my past and painful memories and become someone new.  An opportunity to bury my former existence and create a new identity.  Living in a small town meant fewer distractions and so I focused on my new future.  I had little control of my life but recognized I could apply myself in school and become an excellent student.

So I did.

I enjoyed looking through catalogs of class options.  I packed my class schedule as far as it would stretch.  A majority of my time was spent reading, studying and taking tests. I repeated most of my freshman classes to raise my GPA.  My goal was to work hard to coast through my senior year.  Each high score and earned credits fueled my desire to continue to excel.   The curriculum at my new school was self-paced so I began to crank out the work for the next two years.  I loved it.  At the end of my junior year I was awarded with the highest GPA and Perseverance Award.  It was the first time I was ever recognized academically for my hard work.  My nose was stuck in books for so long that I was surprised to hear my name called that night.  It was proof my life in Arizona was slowly starting to fade away.

Imagine my surprise when the summer before my senior year I learned we were now moving to Dallas?  I was completely floored.  I had finally adapted to living in a small town, new school, new church, new life.  Let me tell you it wasn’t easy but I had done it and actually liked it.   So now here we go again!  Packing our bags and heading north to the City of Dallas.  As much as I missed living close to shopping malls, movie theaters and chain restaurants I didn’t want to go.  I was upset to uproot once again and leave my newfound life now that I was finally settled and in place.  How many more times would I have to do this?  I didn’t know.  I asked my parents if I could stay to finish my senior year and continue to live with my aunt.  I had already asked her and she had agreed.  They firmly said no but I was allowed to stay behind until school started in the Fall.  It wasn’t the answer I hoped for but it was something – and so I agreed.

I waited until the last possible minute to go to Dallas.  The thought of starting over was overwhelming to me.  The christian school I transferred to was much larger and I discovered their credit requirements was more.  My heart sank deep into the pit of my stomach.  This meant I could kiss my easy-breezy senior year goodbye!  I was pissed! Even with a full schedule I was still one health credit short.  Are you fricken serious?!  All that hard work and now it felt like it was all for nothing!  I wanted to scream but I couldn’t so I just pushed all those feelings down deep.  This introverted loner now had to try to acclimate to her new surroundings and attempt to make new friends – all while trying to fulfill the credit requirements.  I went from coasting my way through my final year of high school to wondering if I’d graduate on time.

I couldn’t see back then my abuse was beginning to scab over.  Which was now possible because the sexual abuse had completely stopped.  No more unexpected visits from my aunt or uncle at my home.  Or unwanted advances from other family members at family gatherings.  That era had ended and I had survived it.  Sadly it was far from over, but I just didn’t know it yet.  My sexual abuse started when I five so I had to wait until I matured to completely grasp what actually happened to me.  For eight years the abuse was such a regular and normal part of my life.  It is still surreal today when I think about everything that happened took place.

I now have a four-year old grandson who has such a free-spirit and beautiful soul.  I appreciate his humor and his sweet innocence.  My deep love and adoration for him came from a place I never knew existed until he was born.   There are moments that brings tears to my eyes when I look at this precious boy.  I think about my little girl at the same age.  She didn’t know the pain, misery and torment that would soon appear only a year later. So young, innocent and unprepared for where life would take her.

I underestimated how strong and powerful abuse can envelope and possess you.  It only hands out life sentences and so you have to fight like hell for freedom.    Now one year and one thousand miles away from the horrors – life now felt manageable .  All I desired was to forget the past but it’s impossible.  Running will never heal you.  The next few years in Dallas would become a pivotal and important time in my life.  God heard my cry and gave me a gift – I became an average teenager living an average life.  Although compared to my life before this was WAY above average for me.  I embraced my new school and was given extraordinary friends.  I flourished in school and played on the volleyball and basketball teams too.  I quit trying to forget the past or work hard on becoming someone new.   I was happy.

The next few years changed me in ways I could never fully explain with mere words.  My new life was antibiotic to the deep wounds in my broken heart and body .   As I now look back on that time I can see things were aligning themselves and equipping me for the longer battle that was soon to come.  It’s where I first began to heal and grow.  Hope for the impossible began to sprout and I finally felt safe.  I discovered I could drop my defenses and just breathe.

So I did.

Oh and by the way I graduated on time too 😉