We were at a wedding, that honestly I was a little anxious to attend. I mean, weddings are this wonderful mix of love and cake and dancing and optimism. And especially this one, which couldn't be happening to two nicer people. It's just that I knew I would see a lot of people from the running community that I hadn't seen in a while (because I haven't done any races in over a year) and I didn't really want to have those what are you running? conversations (because I don't really feel like I belong in those conversations). Sure, I run. It's my favorite thing to do. I have been running for 24 years. But I still don't really feel like I would describe myself as a runner. I think of myself more like a traveler or an explorer or a hugger. Most of the talk in running circles is about how far or fast you ran or how far or fast you want to run or how to run farther and faster. There are a lot of super talented runners doing and writing about all of that. I am not and never will be one of them. My writing about running is more like I was running here and I pet a dog/ate delicious snacks/was having the most random and hilarious conversations/felt a lot of feelings and cried. For me, running has never been about distance or pace. It has been about experience and connection. Connection to others but mostly connection to my body and to my best self.
Thinking back, this was the thing about running (and life) I always felt but couldn't articulate. I just don't care about competition, about measuring and comparing things. Humans do this with practically everything and I don't understand it. My ideal civilization is socialist as fuck. My ideal race is one where a bunch of people get together and run through the woods, crossing the finish line hand in hand and then eating a bunch of food not made from animals. I guess that's not really a race so much as like a big outdoor family reunion or something. Anyway, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with competition. I'm fully aware that I'm the weird one. I think other people know this about me too. My college cross country coach took me aside one day and told me I didn't have to come to practice that week, that I could run whatever I wanted to run. That was my favorite week of the entirety of my college experience. After my sophomore year, when I lost too much weight and couldn't be on the team anymore, I wasn't even sad about it. I actually felt kind of relieved. I liked my teammates and I loved running at practice but I hated the pressure of having to try and score points during races. It ruined running for me. Of course, I was supposed to stop running, per the doctor's orders. But I didn't stop. Because I'm ridiculously stubborn and I hate being told what to do. But mostly because at that point in my life, running was the only thing that actually made me want to be alive. So if I gave that up there would be nothing stopping me from disappearing completely. Running was the thing that made me feel most like myself. The good and the bad, the feelings and the flaws, the long limbs and awkwardness. I could be all the things I am when I was running and there was space for all of them. This jumble of restlessness and ridiculousness in human form suddenly made sense when unleashed on a road or trail. I didn't know all these things at the time. Or I did know them somewhere deep down at the true core of me, but I couldn't have explained it to anyone back then. I'm only finding the words to say it now. I started eating again because I wanted to keep running, to keep exploring the world and what it means to be alive. The older I got, the more space I took up, first physically, but then mentally and emotionally too. I was expanding in all directions. I still am. It is exhilarating and slightly terrifying and I don't know how I ever lived any other way. This process, and the people I have met along the way, are the most sacred things to me. There is no way to measure that. There is no GPS data that can quantify this opening of my mind, this connection to my body, this expansive, limitless feeling in my heart.
But I feel like people don't want to talk about that. It's ok. That's why I'm putting it here. Because it's now too big to keep inside and I have to put it somewhere. And it's true and important for me whether or not anyone else reads it or cares. The funniest thing happened though, at that wedding I was nervous to go to. It was a lovely and heartwarming event, of course. The food was off the charts good. Pete and I danced a ton. Sheila and I sang Lizzo's Truth Hurts to each other outside the barn and then danced and sang when the band inside played it. Several people made comments about me being a good dancer and how awesome it was to see Pete and I dancing. Which was so funny because, in all objectivity, I am NOT a good dancer. Like at all. I am more like Elaine doing the little kicks in that Seinfeld episode. But here's the thing. You don't have to be a good dancer to dance at a party. It's not Dancing With The Stars. All you have to do is move your body and not care what people think about how you move your body. And Friends, I felt fantastic that night. I had my velvet dress and my gold oxfords on and I was full of happiness and vegan cupcakes. I think that is what people must have noticed. That I looked like someone who was having a good time, someone full of joy at having a body and being alive. Because I was having a good time. At a fun party with wonderful people. But also just being myself. My imperfect, weird self. I used to feel bad about the ways I wasn't like other people, like there was something irreparably wrong with me. Now I feel like those are all the things that make me who I am. And who I am is pretty awesome. Not in a way that's faster or smarter or better in any way than anyone else. Believe me, I am very ordinary. Just in a way that's like I'm a unique bundle of atoms and adventure such as has never before existed. And so are you. So are we all. And how terrific is that?! We're not all the same. That's the best part of life. That we're all different, we're all strange in our own ways. You don't have to conform to what everyone else does or thinks or feels or is. You can turn and face your own strange. And see how epic that can be.
I don't know if or when I will run another race. There are definitely places I'd love to run and things I'd love to be able to do. But if I don't end up ever doing them, I'm ok with that too. After 38 years of aliveness, this is the best I've ever felt in my body. My body awareness and posture is the best it's ever been. I am the most unapologetically me I have ever been. It's like I had to learn how to move all over again, in the ways that I was meant to move, after having worked to unlearn all the crap that tried to keep me small, quiet, compliant. I'm still learning and hopefully always will be. I would love to be able to run for the rest of my life. But to do that, I need to run in a way that builds me up, not breaks me down. So that means a lot of rest and food and sleep. It means listening to my own body and not all the other noise out there. It means being grateful for what it can do, not lamenting what it cannot. Still, even if I go into a race without expectations, other people still sometimes put their expectations onto me. I don't think most people are consciously aware of doing this and I know what we project onto others is usually more about us, but I'm still working out how to graciously decline to meet others' expectations. "No thanks, don't put that crap on me" seems kinda rude.
There is a thing people often say at weddings, about how the other person is their rock. I find it really sweet. But honestly I don't think of anyone else as my rock (though I do think of Dwayne Johnson as The Rock). Pete is my life, adventure and dance partner. My friends are some of the most supportive, brilliant, inspiring, wonderful people alive. I feel like my mom loves me more than is humanly possible to love someone. But I am my rock. There is this force within me, this relentless, ridiculous curiosity and compassion, that is stronger than all the doubts and fears and judgments combined. And when I'm not denying or hiding from that inner force, I am an unstoppable dancing weirdo.
Lyric of the moment: "These children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds, are immune to your consultations. They're quite aware of what they're going through..." ~David Bowie "Changes"
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