A tale of 3.1 miles
I didn't run the race. I walked. My pace wasn't the greatest (heck, the first mile took us 28 minutes!). But you know what? I finished the race. And, I RAN across the finish line. And I got a medal for my hard work.
And it was all worth it.
To me, this race wasn't about how fast my miles were, or where I finished in the group of 5,500 runners, walkers, and stroller pushers. No. It was about ME and feeling good about myself.
The last year has been rocky to say the least. You know this if you have been reading my blog for a while. I left a toxic work environment and an abusive boss. I spent months at that job feeling useless and worthless. It truly broke me as a person.
But as I passed that 3 mile marker on the course I had this moment of clarity that's really hard to explain. It was as if all the crap from the past year was suddenly washed away and I was ME again. I was stronger. Smarter. Faster. And the evil green polyester trolls no longer had any relevance to me at all. They were also washed away in a tidal wave of empowerment.
And then, as the finish line came into sight, out of the corner of my eye I saw some friends standing on the sidelines and suddenly they were cheering for me! It was that last little boost I needed. I looked at my wonderful (new) friend Rebekah and said "Let's RUN!"...and so, we did. We ran across the finish line. And then we hugged each other. And cried.
At that moment I really felt like anything was possible...I was stronger and faster.
And, I was OK.