Scared to Start

I can barely remember when three miles was a struggle.  

This must be the time of year I decide to step out of my comfort zone and challenge myself. 

Last year at this time I decided to train for a half marathon.  I was filled with fear with every step I ran.  Every mile represented a mile closer to 13.1 and that number filled me with fear, anxiety & buttreflies in my stomach.   

I have never been a strong runner.  I started training too soon before the marathon & looking back I didn't even train properly.  Many other seasoned runners suggested I train more, become a stronger runner first. 

The closer it got to the marathon I kept secretly hoping I would get injured or sick or come to my senses & chicken out.

I DID IT ANYWAY. 

For me it wasn't about finishing in a certain time or keeping a certain pace or any other running related goal.  I kept saying my goal was just to finish.  That was a lie.  I lied to myself & everyone & knew once that gun went off I would finish.  I have never been the type not to finish what I start. My real goal, the one I didn't even admit to myself, was making it to the starting line, not the finishing line. It was about feeling the fear & doing it anyway. 

I crossed that finish line battered & bruised mentally, physically & emotionally.  I felt so fucking strong regardless of the pain. More alive than I had ever felt in my life.   

I could have waited till I became a stronger runner to run that half marathon.  But then I would have missed out on becoming a stronger person.