I’ve lived most of my life operating within the confines of mediocrity. I am not, by nature one who pushes myself. Physically, I am not athletic. I always hated gym class with a deep abiding passion. I could never understand the point. Running around with a ball..either to kick it, or hit it or catch it with some sort of implement. I remember looking with confusion at my classmates as they yelled and screamed about bases and goals. I couldn’t have cared less about scores or winning or losing. It was dumb as far as I was concerned. I tried my hand at soccer and volleyball during my middle school years. More to try and fit in than anything else. In the end I just couldn’t connect with it. After 4 pregnancies I was unrecognizable to myself..so I started walking. Walking with strollers and around parks and tracks. I never enjoyed it..I just wanted to get into my jeans. Anything physical I’ve done has been with the intention of reducing my size. Having children kept me active..until my life took a drastic turn and I found myself divorced and responsible for things like rent and electricity. I worked in the restaurant industry for a few years; and did cleaning jobs. Both physically demanding and for awhile I stayed comfortable in my jeans. It was a job change that brought me into a very sedentary existence. I began working full-time as a caregiver and most of my day was spent sitting. The lady I cared for slept most of the time..and my job was to be there with her while her family worked. Basically.. sitting. Basically..eating. I noticed a very rapid weight gain and a very intense exhaustion all at once. The truth is..I didn’t care. Don’t get me wrong I hated getting dressed because nothing fit me anymore. My body expanded..and physically it drained my energy. I was tired all the time, too tired to do anything about it. About 8 months ago, a group of my friends and I joined a popular weight loss program together. It was useful in learning how to change my diet..sort of hitting the reset button. I started slowly losing weight, not as quickly as I would have preferred but it was a slow and steady process. In July..as I started thinking about my 40th birthday looming, I began to feel something I’d never felt before. I believe some people call it..an aspiration. I had a bizarre and sudden desire to run. Ive always admired runners. All I knew of running was that debilitating sense of imminent death as my breath and body would rebel against any such activity. I’ve tried running in the past..and that horrid lung burning, legs giving out feeling would always win out. This time however.. something was different. Maybe it was a sense of empowerment? After all I had come pretty far since my divorce. I started the process with no viable income, no skills and no idea how to even pay a bill. I had ended up working three jobs and learning how to pump my own gas, change a toilet seat and in short..figuring out how to be a single working mom with no safety net. I used to be a “do it for me” kind of girl. I learned how to be more independent. I learned how to achieve things without much help. My life has changed since then. I am remarried, and I am no longer at that weight gaining job. So, as 40 danced towards me with an evil look on its face.. beckoning me into middle life; I decided to rise up and show 40 just who I was. I started out running half a block. Seriously that was all I could do. I thought I might die. The next few weeks were a test of will. I forced myself to do more..and more until I was able to run a half a mile. My new goal was a mile by 40. It happened on a Friday night..and it took me 27 minutes. I also didn’t enjoy it. I enjoyed the feeling afterwards however. That sore, accomplished sense of movement. I had done something hard. Coinciding with this personal Olympic event..were the real Olympics. I found myself actually caring. I made time to watch, it excited me to see people pushing themselves beyond normal limits to succeed. I watched the races standing up..yelling just like those idiots in my gym class. I cared. As the summer months progressed, I turned 40 and continued running. Each step, although slow has brought me a deeper understanding of who Laura is. I have become my opposite. I have gotten my mile time down to 12 minutes..hardly worthy of celebration in the eyes of seasoned runners..but I celebrate it. I run steady, I run strong..as strong as I can. I have days where I dread it and don’t do my best. I have days where I silently giggle with pride because I am excited to be operating beyond mediocrity. It’s become important to me to be my opposite. To rise up to a challenge, to be new. So, 40 isn’t so bad. Instead of dancing towards it…I ran.
Lauli4's Blog 