Kellie Talks Mud, Sweat...and FEARS

I have 3 training accessories: mud, sweat and fears.

Mud is fine…mud is pretty fun, actually. Might even clear up a few pores or tighten some of that elasto-stuff that’s sagging.  I’ve always associated a damn good day with coming home scraped and muddy and sunburned. I have no issues with mud. 

Sweat is great! Never minded working up a good sweat, and am actually fairly impressed with myself when every limb is sweating and my eyebrows are little diving boards for the drops launching off my forehead. Sweat has that smell of victory to it, right? 

Fear can be a good thing too…motivational, inspirational and even kind of funny sometimes.  I think we all have a good number of fears as we endeavor to better our bodies and minds with crazy workouts, insane races and the gauntlet of funky smells called the gym.

For example: I fear that my butt looks wobbly in that certain pair of yoga pants. That my form when I’m doing squats is attracting the attention of The Weird Dude that sits on the thigh master for 2 straight hours. I’m afraid that, in my next race, I’ll wear that pair of underwear that always rides up my left cheek and have to endure a chafing wedgie for 45 minutes because I’m not gonna yank it out during the race and chance a picture being taken Just Then to be posted on the website.  I also fear running in temperatures below 30 degrees F, forgetting my bib on race day, that my ancient stove will spontaneously combust…and plant roots.

But what I really want to address here isn’t just normal, everyday fear, it’s…

FEAR!!

You know, the kind that keeps you awake in the wee dark hours, staring at the ceiling and wondering if you’re really getting stronger or just fooling yourself. The kind that whispers in your ear, over and over at mile 4 or 12 or 20, that there’s no way you’re going to make it another mile and maybe it’s better to just stop and say you tried.  The Fear that crept in at 35, established residency at 40 and has now redecorated in my head at 44 by hanging a neon sign that says, “You look like an idiot out there with all those young, fit people. You don’t belong out there…stop embarrassing yourself.”

Yeah, that Fear.

It disguises itself as fatigue, anger, anxiety…and sometimes is very convincing when it shows up as a juicy cheeseburger while waving your overscheduled calendar in your face. Sure I’m tired; overworked and overscheduled, and fitting in those workouts seems like a real pain in the ass. But it’s the Fear talking. If I can find an excuse to avoid the training then I have a way out. No one would expect me to get out there and race if I’m not in shape. I can just put it off. Right?

WRONG

Because I know what will happen if I give in to Fear.  Fear pals around with Self-pity and Depression, and you don’t want those two ringing your doorbell.  They’re not selling cookies, oh no. They’re gonna bring over at least a couple days worth of gluttony and sloth and snicker at you while they hide your running shoes. Nope. That whole situation just needs to be avoided. And that means Fear has to get the boot. Kick its ass out.

Goodbye.

Tot ziens.

Adios.

Sayonara.

That’s when I have to step back talk myself through it. Aloud sometimes. I’m not too tired to workout, and if I just get started I’ll have the momentum to finish. It’s not too cold outside to run. I have the right clothes and I just need to put them on. I can eat the cheeseburger, and enjoy it, without pigging out for the rest of the day. I’m not too old, or too inexperienced to enter that race. There are age categories above mine full of people and I’ve never stood at a starting line without seeing folks of all shapes and sizes. And I can absolutely go that One More Mile. I won’t die. I might wheeze and cry and limp, but I will cross that finish line. And Fear cannot come with me.

The Fear will be back, I know.  It’ll show up unexpectedly as too many fat rolls in a picture taken by a friend or a finish time that makes me wonder if everyone else took a shortcut. It lurks. But it’s easier to ward off than it used to be and it’s no longer all consuming. More of a stumbling block than a gaping pit of doom these days. I think it’s scared of my new friend who’s taking names and kicking some ass:

DETERMINATION

We’re running a race together this weekend, Determination and I…in the cold and wet, with hills, sponsored by a bunch of college kids with good abs. And it’s going to be FUN!

Piss off, Fear.