What’s on your list?

I love to race.

There are many reasons why someone will strap on some running shoes, pin a number to their body and step up to a starting line. Some race because they have their eye on a bigger prize and time is of the essence. Some race because the medal at the end just can’t be passed up. Some race to raise money for a good cause and some run in memory of someone loved and lost.

I race for those reasons too.

But I also race for very personal reasons.

To say I love running would be an understatement. It has saved my life. It’s the one thing I’ve been able to do time and time again pushing myself farther (and sometimes faster) in order to prove that even when I feel like I’m failing I’m not. When I am in the middle of a run and I start to cry because I’m tired or far away from home and want to quit I feel like a failure. When I take a deep breath and keep running I am everything but a failure. When that tiny little voice in my head begins to whisper “you’re going too slow” and I feel like a failure, the big loud voice in my heart says “TARA, for the love of all that is pure you’re running! Who cares about time? Can you feel your heart beating and your muscles working?” and I am everything but a failure.

I push myself to step up to a starting line because that is the reward for my hard work. It’s the gift to myself as I wait patiently among the other runners and feel my anxiety slip away. That deep breath and slow walk to the timing mat that says “I earned this” and more importantly “I deserve this”.

I also race because I know there are other people on the route doing something so scary they think no one could possibly understand. I may not have lived in their shoes but I understand. The fear. The unknown. The “What the fuck am I thinking”. The “I’ll never be good enough”. The “I don’t believe in myself”. The “just keep swimming”.

If you’ve been following this blog for any given time you know that one of the most important parts about getting ready for a race is the sign I will wear on my back. Just about every race has had a hand written sign, laminated and safety pinned to my shirt so that people can read it as either A) they pass me or B) I pass them. Those that pass me I’m hoping for a little thumbs up  or a few words of encouragement to keep going. Those that I pass I’m hoping to give them reason to keep going… A little message of “I understand” if you will.

 I spent a lot of time thinking about the sign for this monumental race. My first marathon. It’s taken me a long long time to get here. A lifetime really. So many people out there lose a crap ton of weight and start running. Before long they’ve conquered the 26.2 milestone and go on to run multiple marathons. Its taken me almost two years to get here. Not because I couldn’t physically do it. If this was about physical capability I would have run a marathon a long time ago. This was all mental. This was about giving myself permission to do something solely for me that would take months of training and hours each week to accomplish. This was about taking my demons out the door firmly planted on my shoulders and then flicking them as hard as I could and leaving them at mile 5…mile 10…mile 19.

I didn’t know what to put down on my sign. The sign that says “I understand” and at the same time that says “I’ve come a long way baby”. The sign that causes that one person that feels like giving up the extra push to keep moving forward or that helps someone feel like they are not alone out on the course and that while some of us (and certainly NOT me) make it look easy a reminder that every runner has a story.

Every pair of feet that crosses the starting line is there for a reason…

It came to me yesterday in the form of an email and then a facebook comment. The bluenose marathon sent out a final confirmation/how to pick up your packet email and listed was our number. Normally I dream about what it’s going to be like to get my race packet and see my number for the first time. I wasn’t prepared to see it in an email. Was it bad luck to look? Should I wait? In the end I looked because well who wouldn’t want to know the number to the very first marathon they are going to run?

I took a few minutes to let that number sink it. It is a great number. 180. It wasn’t the 007 or the 253 I was hoping for but then again I was thinking I would for sure have at least a 4 digit number. I was impressed that with over 10,000 runners I got a 3 digit. I posted it on facebook and not long after I got this as a response:

” ‎180 degree change in your lifestyle!!!! Great work – we’re cheering for you all the way from Seattle”

(Thank you Universe)

I race because I am not who I was a little more than two years ago. The life I was living is so different to the life I am living today. I still fight the demons of my every day existence but the scales have tipped in my favor and I may not like myself everyday but everyday I love myself. I race because I’m lucky to be here. I’m fortunate to have survived the first 40 years of my life. If you look at me today the words “meth-head”, “smoker”, “morbidly obese” would come as a shock to you but those are words that describe who I was not that long ago. Those are the demons that sit squarely on my shoulder as I wake up early on race day morning and feel fear creep slowly into my spirit. Those are the demons that poke me in my side as I make sure I have everything I need and head out the door to the starting line. Those are the demons that whisper “you can’t” “you won’t” and “you never will”….

This is my sign for Sunday

And those are the demons I’m leaving behind at mile 5, mile 10, mile 19…

and

mile 26.2