No doubt

Saturday morning Pete and I ran 9.5 miles from his house to Tryon Park, around the loop to Lucien Morin park and back to his house. It was a beautiful morning and I couldn't ask for better company, but I started to get frustrated with myself. I felt tired. I'm still not 100% over this cold. It's been 2 weeks and I'm still hacking up junk. I'm hoping the 10 days of antibiotics will finally shut down this phlegm factory for good. I want to feel better. I want to run better. I don't want to hold Pete back during our epic TransRockies adventure in August (58 miles of trails over 3 days. I am going to die. When Pete suggested it, I said something like Are there bears in Colorado? I want to hug a bear. Which just goes to show you how little survival instinct I possess. But there was no doubt in my mind that I would say yes. When adventure calls, the only answer is yes).

I know that feeling frustrated about the way I feel isn't productive, so I changed my perspective. Sure, I've been sick. But I also ran 15 miles of tough, muddy trails. I ran some hills one morning and ran again that night. I swam laps at the pool. Thursday night I ran probably faster than I've ever run at Lucien Morin, which has always been a tough park for me. And then I got to spend a lovely Saturday running with my love, eating tacos, swimming in an amazing friend's amazing heated pool, and playing euchre while eating a chocolate dome.

Most surprisingly, I put on a bikini and went out in public without a second thought. Ok, well I had maybe one and a quarter thoughts. But it was only to check that my boobs were secure in the halter top. I have joked about instituting a don't-ask-don't tell policy with the backs of my thighs because it's better if I don't know what is going on back there. Then I realized my legs, whatever they look like, have carried me through everything. Through a few years of frighteningly little sustenance. Through marathons and runs of intense pain and debilitating muscle cramps. They have literally supported me through every minute of every day of my entire life.

It all hit me as I was driving to the pool this morning and I couldn't help but tear up. I felt this overwhelming sense of gratitude for my body and the life it has carried me through. Whatever life threw at them, my legs were always enough. I was always enough. It was a wave of sweet relief on a visceral level, a setting down of the heaviest burden: the crushing weight of my own self-doubts.

I thought of all the things I denied myself in the past because I didn't feel good enough for them. And I realized how ridiculous it all was. I got in the gym pool and felt such joy to be there. I've never taken swimming lessons and I don't know what I'm doing, but I've always loved the water. I love the feeling of moving through it. It feels like home. Water is so basic, a simple threesome of hydrogen and oxygen, but it is powerful beyond measure. It is so calm on the surface, yet it can move mountains.

And I am 60% water.

Lyric of the moment: "I am not scared of the elements. I am under-prepared, but I am willing. And even better, I get to be the other half of you..."