Sometimes All It Takes…

…is one simple little statement to inspire you. And to cause you to be completely honest with yourself and your feelings. I’ve been completely unmotivated to blog lately and, honestly, completely unmotivated to do much of anything. There’s no real reason. I think I’m just in a “trying to find my way” stage again, and sometimes when that happens all I want to do is sit in my bed and eat ice cream while looking up various things on the internet; some of which are completely and utterly useless. I have most definitely not been entirely honest with myself or others regarding my emotions either.

I’ve been trying really hard to stick to my exercises and stretching and I was doing well for about a week and a half, I think because I was noticing even the smallest amount of improvement (aka being HAPPY that I was sticking to it), but then things started to change.

On Sunday afternoon, I finally secured my registration in the Columbia Autumn Classic Road Race to benefit Camp Care. This was the first 5k I did last year, and my first one ever, so there was no way I was not going to race it again. It’s been stressing me out a lot though since I registered, and I think that’s playing a role in all of this. My loyal readers will notice I never did a true recap of the Hope is Coming 5k in August. That’s because it was miserable. To say the least. My leg’s cramped within the first mile, it was way hotter than expected, and my time was so far off of my goal. Did I finish? Yes. Was I happy about it or proud of myself? No way in Hell. Here’s the thing. The course was an out and back, so as I was approaching Mile 1, I saw people already on their way back–finishing in 22 minutes, 30 minutes, 45 minutes. As each person passed me going the opposite direction and as each foot pounded down on the pavement, it felt like a painful reminder of the differences I face, something I so often, and so effectively, shove out of my mind.

So, you know what, I’ll admit it. I’m terrified of this race on the 24th. I’m terrified that I will cramp up again and my body will reject EVERYTHING that my brain is asking it to accomplish. I am terrified that I will go in with a goal to do better that last year, and that belief in myself and mental determination won’t be enough. I’m terrified that I am looked at as “the girl with CP” who does these 5k just so I can feel good about myself or so that I can gain some attention in the “able-bodied” world.

But most importantly, I’m terrified that I set myself up for failure by putting myself in these situations. Failure is my comfort zone. Quitting and having people quit on me is my comfort zone. Having to defend myself against labels and the “you can’t do thats” is my comfort zone. And I don’t want this to be that. I’m terrified that it will.

All this being said, I’m trying so hard to not let it be that compfort zone and when I heard this quote on Grey’s Anatomy tonight, it reminded me that I have to keep fighting:
“You don’t find something you love that much and let it go. You hold onto it, throw yourself in deeper.”
It’s not so much the 5ks that I love (even though I do get runner’s high and do love them), or the spinning, or the balance exercises or the stretching. It’s the happiness I find in them and through them. Happiness when I show signs of improvement. Happiness when I take control of my own life. That happiness is not something I can afford to lose. So, I will continue to run (well, walk), I will continue to spin, I will continue to work on my PT, and I will continue to find my way.

I want that happiness to be my new comfort zone.