Another step.
Another minute.
Another goal.
Another mile.
Another dream.
I’ve been considering giving up the ambition of running. I haven’t hit a wall, I haven’t been dealt too many injuries, and I’m not really on the verge of burning out.
I’m just tired of being my own fuel.
I run alone. I cherish that part of running. I love the isolation, the vast scenery, the…emptiness. I run alone because I’ve grown to love it.
However, I’ve grown tired of holding it all to myself. I’ve tried social media, and that’s yielded a few fun folks, but nothing really tangible. MC asks about my runs; I appreciate it. I just don’t ever have conversations to share with her. There’s nothing competitive to talk about. I don’t run races because I’m so terrified of failure. I don’t race because of the absolute dread of letting myself down. We’re talking it’s close to the level of an acute panic attack; that’s how much I’ve grown to fear letting myself down.
My ex-wife was right. I’m worth nothing.
I knew my ex-father-in-law was judging me when I couldn’t even complete a 5K.
My high school coach was right; I should have stopped while I still had a chance.
That college track team thought I was pathetic god trying to mimic their work ethic.
That Olympic running thinks I’m ‘cute for trying’.
That national team runner thinks I’m some weird stalker.
My wife doesn’t know I’ve lost weight.
My wife doesn’t understand that she’s envisioned at each finish line.
I’m too old.
I’m too heavy.
I’m too poor.
I’m too weak.
I’m too undisciplined.
God’s shutting a door.
God’s shutting a door.
Please God, not another one. Please don’t shut this door.
These are the thoughts that rush through my head every day. I can hear the snickering, see the scoffing, read the doubt. The problem with running alone is just that, you’re all alone.
It’s not that I want to stop chasing dreams. I just want to give up, because others have given up on me.
I wish I could defeat every thought that crosses my mind, but I’m tired. My ex-wife was right; I’m just not strong enough.
-D-
Pingback: XXXI: Three Steps Back | Signing On The X