Lost

Human beings like to hold on to the illusion of control. We make our plans. We check things off our lists. We give advice. We seek advice. But really, we don't control anything.

I started this year with a plan. I was going to have the most active, crazy-busy, badass year ever. My plan included an almost obnoxious amount of training and competing. And just to prove to myself, and people who knew me, that I was capable of the tough stuff, I had to do something hard. Completing 3 half marathons, a number of triathlons, and a handful of long, challenging bike rides seemed to fit the bill. What I don't think I consciously knew at the time was that my plan was simply a cliched attempt to control how I and others saw me. I could become the athletic girl. The dedicated weekend warrior. It was my way prove my worth to the world, to prove I was worthy of taking up space.

For nine months, my time was consumed with work (I mean, I had to have a way to pay for the training gear and entry fees somehow), training, hanging out with friends and competing. Sometimes several of those at the same time. I very carefully set up a life that was constantly busy. I was only home to sleep and shower. I didn't have time to think and that suited me fine. Because when I thought, I didn't like what I thought. But for those nine months, I could avoid that. And it was good.

And then my body rebelled. After all those hours, all those miles and all that sweat, my body had had enough. It was tired. It was hurt and it was sending me a clear message: it was time for off-season. After 2/3 of a year of having an almost singular focus, training was not taking up most of my time. I was finding myself with free time. And know what happens when you have free time? You start to think. And it was not good.

When I was suddenly without my security blanket of working towards a goal, I literally wasn't running here and there. I was....lost. I had been on the road to one goal or another for so long, I had forgotten what it felt like to not have a destination.

So here I am 2 months into my off-season, but I still find myself on the road. But this time it's the road to recovery. The road to recovery of myself. It's the road I never chose before. This road is the most difficult one I've ever traveled and I've wanted to get off it more times than I can count. I've tortured myself and I can only hope that the pain I've put myself through on this road makes me stronger in the same way the pain of a hard run does.

I don't know if that will happen but I think I have to try to find out. I'm ready to be found.