Fear Thee Well

Fear.: a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid. (dictionary.com)

We all have fears. Some tangible, some intangible. Some grounded in past experiences, others originating from the unknown and irrational. Regardless of the origin or nature, the fear is very real and so is the impact it has on life.

I have many fears. I fear for my children’s health & safety, for where our society is headed. I fear ending up alone and at the same time fear being bound to another. I'm afraid of snakes and zombies, the list could go on and on. I’m just thankful that none of these fears are crippling and I can go about my daily life without being anxious. However, about a year ago, I woke up one day and thought, ‘Is this it? Is this is all my life is going to be?’ and that was my first experience with a near crippling fear. I realized in that moment that my greatest fear of all is of a life of complacency, of routine....of settling.

As I thought back, it became undeniably clear that this was always what I have feared. It’s why I had spent much of my adult life moving from place to place, changing jobs and careers, never standing still long enough to deal with the bigger picture of what my life was and where it was going. But, now, I was a mother. I had two young children I was responsible for and I couldn’t just take off on a whim and move across the country or to the other side of the world. Talk about a wake up call!

For the first time in my life, I couldn’t run away. But, that didn’t mean I could run.

I had been active on and off over the years. I played various team sports when I was younger. There were a few years (in the pre-Mommy world) that I was really into cycling and probably in the best shape of my life, but even then I’d never been able to run. When 30 miles was going for a short bike ride and I was completing 100+ mile events, I hadn’t been able to finish a 5k run without walking. Things were different now, though. I needed a challenge and, more importantly, I needed an outlet. My bike still sat in the garage, but I looked at it and thought “been there, done that” and being a single mom, I didn’t have the luxury of the hours that cycling required, so I invested in a pair of running shoes and tried to reprogram my brain from “I can’t” to “I can”.

And so I ran...

I didn’t love it, it didn’t come naturally, but it wasn’t as hard as I had remembered it, which I accounted to the fact that I had spent the better part of the previous year attempting to live a healthier lifestyle and working to get back in shape. A mile quickly turned into two and then three and I was feeling pretty proud of myself. Then I hit the wall, barely being able to push through a mile without wanting to collapse. People told me it was normal and I’d get through it, but it hurt and giving up on the premise that “I’m just not a runner” sounded so much easier.

A quitter...is that what I wanted to be? Because despite the justifications, that is exactly what I was setting myself up to be and I couldn’t live with that.

I’m competitive by nature, much more so than I had ever admitted to, and I could not quit! This is how I ended up in the world of obstacle racing. Running, just to run, was not something that was appealing. Running, jumping, climbing, crawling...that was something totally different and exciting. I didn’t have to focus on how far I’d run and how far I had left, I just had to concentrate on conquering the next obstacle that got in my way. Suddenly, running didn’t seem so bad. And now, almost a year later, after I push through the first couple of miles of a plain, ordinary run, I actually enjoy it. I *am* a runner. I found my escape.

Last year, I challenged myself to complete the Urbanathlon and with Kellie’s help and encouragement, I did. This year, I’m training for not only my first Spartan race, but for the Spartan Trifecta. This is keeping me occupied, keeping me sane (well, depending on the day and who you ask), and even when I’m at my breaking point, keeping me going. And while I’m trying to remain focused on the task at hand, my mind still insists on wandering to next year...to the next challenge.

In the few moments that I slow down long enough to think about it, I wonder if anything has changed. I know I'm healthier and stronger than I was, even more confident, which is good, but are things different? Or, am I still just running away?

Now, my fear is that one day I’ll have to stop and answer that question.