Early Retirement

I think I’m retiring from running. It no longer makes me feel good about myself.

When I started running it was an escape. When I started running races, each race was an achievement. I knew I wasn’t breaking 10km records, but I felt awesome. When I ran 21km I felt like a rock star. But something must be very wrong when one finishes a 21km race and then feels like a failure.

Running is no longer about me, about challenging myself, or about feeling special. Now I’m either running myself into the ground to stay ahead of your ridicule or desperately trying to catch up to your expectations. Never succeeding, mind you. Always being reminded of what a piss poor excuse for a runner I am.

Even now as I prepare to break my body to finish my first 42km the message I get from you is that I’m going to suck. And not only am I going to suck, but that you’ll be there to rub in just how badly I’m going to suck.

Every day for me is a challenge. Every day I have to dig deep to find a little faith, a little self confidence. And as I try to climb my way out of self doubt you voice, your words, are like venomous claws snatching at me, pulling me back down.

And then there’s the insult to the injury. Running was my escape. My escape from a world where I had to compete for my own husband’s attention. And I always came up short.

Running put me in a space where I could be myself. Where they weren’t. Where I felt like something, for a change.

Yet once again here they are. They didn’t crash their way in. You held open the door and let them walk right past me, into my special space. And of course, once again, I cannot compete.

It’s ok. They can have it. I give up.

But fuck you for doing this to me.

Fuck you for once gain stealing my peace, for snatching away my happiness, for breaking down the little bit if confidence I’ve built and for shattering the already fragile identity I’ve had to recreate.

But this time I’m not going to fade into the background like I’ve done before, for your convenience.

Yes I’m hurting and I’m sad and I don’t know where I’m going. That’s what you wanted right?

But I will find myself again. I will recreate myself again. Notice how each time I come back stronger.

Every time you break me down I rebuild a better version of myself.

So fuck you. Really, FUCK YOU.