A stick is all I have

There are those in life that hand you a stick, and there are those that just stand there and watch you flounder.  Or even more, those that disapprove of the sticks you try to make yourself.

Take away my sticks and I lay in the quicksand, waiting to be swallowed.

Being Bad at Running Makes Me a Winner

These days, I am a runner, not a dancer.

And if you get down to it, I am not really a runner.  I am a run/walker who does that for ridiculously long distances and times.  But for simplicity sake, let's just call me a runner.

I miss dancing.  I love dancing.  I feel dancing in my guts and the desire to dance is present with me whenever I hear music.  Even music I don't particularly like, still makes me think of how I could move my body to it.  

I do not love running.  I don't even really like running.  But I can run without judging myself (too much).  I have zero talent for running.  No amount of work and time spent training will ever make me an elite runner. With running, I can let go of the relentless and unreasonable perfectionism I judge myself by, and just go.  I will never be a great runner, so it is ok for me to be a bad runner.

Running half marathons and marathons requires work.  It requires training.  It requires preparation and weeks of dedication and a plan.  (And, if you are me, it requires a calendar where you can put sparkle stickers up to see your progression and training success.  And costumes.  But that is a whole other blog post.)  It isn't something that anyone off the street can just get up and do on a whim (or at least, not without wrecking themselves).  

But, even as a fat girl, even as a non-athlete, even as a bad runner, if I stick to the plan and work hard, I can finish a race. 

With running, finishing is winning.  Winning in a way I never allowed myself with dancing, because I couldn't (and can't) let go of the idea that I should be a good dancer.

With running, I allow myself to be proud.  Proud of my accomplishment, proud of all the work I did, proud of finishing.  In a way that I don't have in any other area of my life, running makes me feel good about myself.

There is a reason I cry during every race I do.  But for once, it isn't depression.