Earlier this week Landon and I headed to the local track with the goal of seeing if I could run 3 miles. I checked my Nike Running app before starting and realized I hadn’t hit the pavement or turf since before Thanksgiving. The last time I had come close to 3 miles was September 28 last year, and based off of the emoji I chose that day, it was a miserable 32 minutes and 28 seconds.
So there I was ready to bust out 3 miles with no real evidence to back up that I could do it. I popped in my headphones, turned on my gym playlist and ran 4 laps, a mile, easy. This in of itself was fantastic. As I continued, lap after lap, waving to my sweet daughter who was running around with Landon at the same spot each time I felt overwhelmed with joy. Halfway through I slowed down to swoop in to raise her up in the air and give her a big hug. I had Landon snap a few pictures, took out my headphones and kept going music free.
I started to pay attention to the other women on the track. I watched their bodies, their posture, their speed, their determination and their frustration. I passed a new mom with a young infant in a stroller, two women, and a few others there by their selves. Never before had I been the most “athletic” on a track. I’m always the one panting, dying, and all together struggling the most.
That’s when I realized, aside from that one lap, this was easy. For once running 3 miles was nothing. I was barely breaking a sweat. This realization made my heart go out to these other women, I wanted to tell them all “Just keep going! Keep this up, I promise it gets better.”
Yesterday I had a session with a trainer as a part of a package I recently won back at my old gym. [6 months free, heck yes!] Things started off great. It felt good to be accountable to someone and to share how determined and focused I’d been the past year. But by the end, as we were wrapping up the analysis he pointed out weaknesses that I hadn’t known I’d had. My balance, stability and flexibility were lacking, and some of the exercises we did together were new and difficult.
On one hand I felt proud — of the 30 push ups I did, not on my knees, and my body composition numbers. But on the other hand, my confidence and pride had been hurt. I was just 3 weeks into my new workout program and this new knowledge threw me off. I wanted to go back in and show him how great I was with weights, to show him how much progress I’ve made.
With a good nights rest, and fresh perspective as I write this post, I too need to listen to my own advice. “Just keep going. Keep this up, I promise it gets better.” I don’t need to let this new knowledge that I can’t stand up from sitting with one leg elevated rock my boat. I can be grateful for it, work to incorporate more stretching and different exercises into my day, and move forward.
I fear all too often our determination and motivation can be shattered in as little as a day. I wanted to share my experience to remind you that you are doing better than you think you are. Whatever it is that you’re going for, don’t give up. Keep pounding the pavement, polyurethane sports turf, or sandy beach. Put in the time, and don’t hesitate to pat yourself on the back as you move along. You’re doing better than you think.