BE THE AVOCADO

"Mom, I left your daily note by your bed.  It didn't fit in your motivation box.  But I think you'll like it."

~ Grace, age 11

It's 8:15 am.  I've had coffee but my body doesn't seem to remember that I drank it.  Happens a lot lately.  I've got a tempo workout to tackle this morning; 10.5 miles total including a three mile warmup, four and a half miles at 6:35-6:40 pace and a three mile cool down.  It's a common one for me and yet I'm dreading it.  The temperature outside is in the twenties.  Sweet, sweet winter.  I decide to run inside.  If I'm being honest, and I might as well be since I'm sharing the inner demons today, I really want to go on the treadmill so I don't have to think about hitting pace.  I want to let the machine do it for me.  There, I said it.  Though, I really do hate doing workouts in the cold.  So, off to the gym I roll.  I park and walk slowly....shuffle, shuffle...to the front door of the Y.  I see my friend Pam.  She's running across the parking lot, clearly in a rush and maybe even excited to start her workout.  She does a double take as she sees me heading towards her.  "I'm kind of struggling",  I say.  "Not super motivated today."  She laughs.  I smile.  But I'm not laughing.  I'm wishing I could tap into her energy reserves because mine are depleted.  I don't tell her this.  No need to make things weird.  I throw my stuff in a locker and make sure I have everything I need.  Headphones, water bottles, phone, towel and two pairs of shoes. I'm a walking garage sale.  I grab a treadmill, set myself up and start my warmup.  My legs are heavy, but I knew they would be.  It's fine.  I set the pace slow and ease in.  After a few minutes, the running feels good, natural.  So, I relax and enjoy.  I finish the warmup and change my shoes because I want a something lighter for this work.  I start back up again at goal pace, the high end.  After one minute I stop.  It's not happening.  I change back into my trainers and decide to try one more time.  "Come on, Rebecca.  Be the avocado."  I smile.  Sweet Grace.  I increase the pace back up to 6:40 and try to find a groove.  To say it's hard doesn't even begin to describe it.  I can't get there.  I mean, I'm there, I'm doing it, but it's abnormally difficult.  How did I run 13.1 miles faster than this just three months ago, I wonder.  How am I going to run four and a half miles as this pace today?  I cover the screen with my towel and decide to do as much as I can without looking.  I know that this pace usually equals about 2 songs per mile, give or take.  I tell myself I am not allowed to check my mileage until I've heard six songs.  Instead, I stare out the window at the naked trees and the dead grass.  Sweet, sweet winter.  I sing, I dance, I air-box, (is that a thing?) I shake my hands out, I roll my arms in big circles.  Whatever I can do to move things along, I do it.  Six songs.  Finally.  I've run 3.3 miles.  I sigh with relief.  I'm hurting.  But I can power through 1.2 miles.  I know this.  Two more songs.  I tell myself not to look.  I look.  4.2 miles.  Sweet Lord above.  Make it end.  Finally I finish.  I slow to a walk.   I'm so happy to be done my sweat mixes with tears of joy.  Not really.  But maybe a little.  I putter on for another three miles.  It's a GD miracle that I was able to pull that off.  The struggle is so painfully real lately.  My head and my heart are not in it.  But there is beauty in the struggle.  I know this.  It's one of the reasons I started running in the first place.   It's a big part of what keeps me coming back.  Moving forward, I will take Grace's message to heart.  I will be strong on the outside.  And I will be loving on the inside.  Especially of myself.  Something I don't do often enough.  My heart....my pit, as some might say,....is so full.  Thank you, Grace.

Listen to this:
Dignity - Erin McCarley