Strong and capable.
These are the words my therapist said to me–about me–repeatedly during our sessions during our three years together.
I didn’t always believe her words then. I don’t always believe them now.
Tomorrow, I’m running four miles for the first time, and in the days since I registered for the race, I have felt moments of strength and capability, like I can reasonably accomplish this goal. Not that I will finish in any kind of spectacular fashion. I might come in dead last. But even while I was sick and fighting a sinus infection this week, I haven’t really doubted that I can do this.
It is two days before the race and while the sinus infection is fading, my body does not feel as strong or capable as I would have hoped by now. Sinus infections, I now know, are brutal and coupled with the mental strains of this week–my husband also is not feeling well and I’ve been trying to take care of the house and the kids while still resting and recovering and going to work and staying warm–and I just feel tired. At this exact moment, I’m even feeling a little bit light-headed. Is that the sinus infection? The medication? Something I ate? The afternoon coffee from Panera? Forget about finishing the race, now I am worried about having a medical incident before I even hardly get started.
I probably just need to drink more water.
But the fear is real. Like I’m in way over my head and this might end disastrously.
I was thinking about this while making dinner, and I realized that one of the reasons I run is to feel strong, not the other way around. I don’t run because I already am strong. I started running because I didn’t feel strong, and I keep running because when I run, I feel like I can do anything, no matter what anyone else is doing.
When my therapist told me I was strong and capable, I didn’t believe her and there was no evidence to suggest that I actually was. But after she said those words, and later when I thought about them, I felt like maybe I could be strong and capable. And sometimes I even acted like I was.
There is power in the words we speak and we can live into the words spoken of us and to us and about us. (This works for good and for bad, but I’m thinking mostly of the words that open up possibility in us.)
I don’t run because I’m strong; I’m strong because I run. It’s a subtle shift that pulls me off the couch and out of my house and onto the path. It’s a mantra I’m repeating for the next two days, until my feet begin the rhythm: Run and you’ll feel strong. Run and you’ll feel strong.
Sometimes we have to test the truth of words with action.
Because of the weather and the sinus infection, it will be 10 days since I ran when I start the four miles on Saturday and closer to two weeks since I ran anything even close to four miles. (It was 3 miles.) I’m counting on muscle memory (including my brain) to get me through this challenge. That once I’m out there, no matter how I’m doing, I’ll feel strong and capable.
I’ll have more words about this run after it’s over, but I felt like I needed to get this out now. To admit that I’m not sure I can do this but I’m going ahead with it anyway.
(Also I drank an entire bottle of water while writing this post and I’m feeling better. Stay hydrated, people.)