Breaking Up

I don't know how you handle breakups, but it's never pretty for me.  Sleepless nights, snot bubbles, either eating everything in sight or not eating and poetry.  Breaking up is tough. You've poured your heart and soul into someone and then either you realize it or they do-it won't work.  There's an awkward conversation, maybe rage, maybe tears and it's just done. You are left empty.

We always think that it's hard to be dumped, that it's more earth shattering to be the one who is left but being the person who has to say "I'm leaving" is also gut wrenching. I've been on both sides, and it almost seems easier to have your heart broken than to break someone else's.

I've been toying with a breakup for a few months now. And it's time to go public.  When I was running on my cruise in February, I kept thinking it's time to end it.  Running those slow laps around the top deck of the pool, surrounded completely by crystal blue water and I nearly dropped to my knees, I was done.

I haven't talked to anyone about this, breakups can be very personal especially when you are breaking up with yourself.  I decided in that moment that the old Shel had to go.  The Shel who was full of excuses, who comforted herself only with food, and the girl who was content to be the "funny" one. I was tired of her, tired of carrying her around with me.

So here it is, two months later and I'm ready to say it.  The Old Shel, she's done.  I'm sure that there are times when I'll want to go running back to the safety of what I've always known.  But like any truly doomed relationship, the rebound will be fast and soon enough she will be gone.

It's important to be gentle when breaking up, when standing up alone and saying I want more.  But she got custody of all of my former coping skills.  She is taking the food, the self pity, the laying around and weeping and most importantly she is taking the past.  I have custody of the running shoes, the bicycle and helmet and some really great fitting work out clothes.  I have custody of the future, and from where I sit, the clouds are parting and the sun is shining.

If you see her, be gentle, it's a whole new world.

"I am not a runner"

While we were "running the dots" yesterday morning my coach announced that she is not a runner.  Mind you this is the person who introduced me to running like this, run 1/10th, walk 1/10th or running the dots to prepare for the Lincoln 1/2 marathon in May.  She casually said it, like it wasn't even a thought, like I'd say I'm not purple.

Let me be crystal clear, I consider Monica my running expert, my coach.  She ran the Lincoln 1/2 last year.  She runs 5k's with her husband and daughter.  She's running the Lincoln 1/2 with me this year. She works out in the gym with a trainer specifically for her running.  But she doesn't see it, what I see in her long strides, in her confident gait or just in her sunny attitude about running.  That she is a runner.

So I pressed it with her, like I do.  What does she love about running.  She was quick to answer.  I love that at family things I'm out leading the charge. I love that I don't wear out.  I love that when I went to New York City last year I didn't get tired, I didn't have to pop ibuprofen every four hours.  I love that my daughter sees what I'm doing as normal.  I love the energy.

So, still pressing her, why aren't you a runner? This almost stopped her in her tracks.  Finally she answered, because I don't look like a runner.

Ok why does that matter?  We talked a lot in our 6 miles.  We talked about body image and what it's like to run and not be a gazelle, to weigh more than 140 lbs, to have more than 11% body fat.  We talked about what it is like when too much moves or what it's like when your stomach sticks out further than your breasts, we talked about bulges and dimples.  We talked about what it's like to run and try and leave that all behind.

I loved how honest we were with each other.  There's something about the early morning on the trails in the sun where we could let some of the "shoulds" go and just move. I wish for more days like this for everyone of you, more honesty, more moving and more letting go of the things we allow to diminish us.

Hate at 35 MPH

Spring is springing in Omaha, today was 70 and after a quick morning workout and lunch I thought I'd take my ponytail swing outside and see what it's like to run outside instead of that hated treadmill. It's wickedly windy but a beautiful day. The sun is shining, I have my favorite running jacket on, my new kicks and P!nk blaring in one ear (safety first) of course.

I round the back of the lake at Heartland of America at my slow pace and head towards the former Rick's Boatyard.  I've finished my 10 minute guided run and 5 minute walk and I slowly start to run again, crossing the street and finding a sidewalk to head back to the city when I hear it, the Camaro slows and I hear "Fat Ass" and "Breaking concrete" before he guns the gas and passes me, turning left on 9th street.  And there it is again.  I've heard it before shouted from car windows.  

The first time was when I was 15 and walking home from work, then I was also a "Fat Ass."  I went home, cried myself to sleep with whatever snack foods I had in front of me.  In college, my boyfriend and I were just taking a walk on campus and we heard "Lose some weight" shouted from a window again the car sped away.  And now today.  I'm sad now and probably will be for a few days.  Honestly angry too-wondering how small their penises are and what would drive someone to do that to a stranger.  

So I thought about small penis Camaro driver the whole way back, and I ran much farther than I had planned to, my own version of the finger I suppose.  I hate how it makes me feel, like I am less than by being too much.  Once again I feel like I should apologize for my existence.  But it feels different this time, feels like I'm not the one to apologize.   It occurred to me that Camaro was out driving, and I was out, pony tail swinging and moving.  I was investing in being 80 by taking care of me and making myself feel better without hurting anyone else, and without hurting me in the process.  

So what good can come from this?  I will challenge each of you, when you see anyone out trudging along by the side of the road or on a treadmill at the gym or anywhere working on moving, send them love.  For me, send them good will and good wishes that they keep on moving.  You never know, it could be me you are wishing well. 

Vacation Workout

I had a lot of time to think on vacation, traveling with my best friend Mike is a comfort. We've known each other for 20 years now and know how to be together.  We are both single so both know the value of alone time in the midst of being together.  I mention this to say that he didn't even bat an eye at my need to go running on the ship, I don't know that he woke up completely.  

Trudging around the track it nearly stopped me in my tracks, not only did I take running shoes on vacation but I was using them.  I was running in the middle of the ocean because I wanted to and for no other reason.  I took the time that morning and just relaxed into it.  I didn't critique my style, I didn't get (too) jealous of the gazelle who kept bounding past me with her blonde pony tail bouncing or the sprinter who lapped me more than the laps I actually ran, I kept my eyes open and I just ran my run.

There is something strange and empowering about coming home from vacation having lost 5 lbs and not wracked with guilt over poor choices.  I enjoyed every minute and every bite and every step on the trip but I know it's just starting.

Fear of Running

As somewhere north of a petite flower and closer to a strong German girl, I have a fear of running.  It's all the huffing and puffing, the boredom of are we done yet and finally all the stuff that moves enthusiastically when I'd prefer it doesn't.  It's the constant monologue in my head that I'm not doing it right, that I'm running too slow, that there must be a better way.  Then my thoughts turn to the other people in the room who I'm sure are judging me for my lack of running style.  I'm sure that the dude in the back of the weight room lifting and grunting is watching me and horrified at my lumbering "run." Or the twenty something girl on the elliptical talking on the phone without breaking a sweat who I'm sure is using me as a cautionary tale against cake.

But then something magic happens, I look past the city lights in the darkness and I can see my reflection in the window.  First I notice and admire the way my pony tail swings back and forth in time brushing my neck.  My slow run is steady and even.  I pause in my constant criticism and admire the fact that I'm moving, I am moving. I watch as my shoulders ease down from my ears and relax.  I am running my race and if I can get out of my head I may just win or at least medal.

Investing in my 80's

I decided to run a 1/2 marathon this year.  Talking to my book club buddies I realized that what I'm doing is investing in my 80's.  Every step I slowly jog today is an investment in being one of those sassy old ladies who still tool around the mall in their jogging suits.

It's not easy, it's only day 2.  I have apps on my phone to help and am trying to keep it interesting to me.  The ap I used today was 10k runner.  This times out the run, and like so many others gives queues to run and when to walk.  Now the walking wasn't bad, that I like.  It's the running I don't like.  Too much moves, too much shakes and it takes too long for it to stop when I finish running.

But that's just today, metaphorically.  Tomorrow is actually a yoga day so no jiggling, but in the greater picture the next time I run, I know I can do a minute of anything, I will have less of me to move and never again will I run on January 14, 2014.  Today is gone, no sense in dwelling on what I may have done better.

Mantra for tomorrow, invest in being 80.  Get Moving!!!