Lately I have been thinking about taking up running again. Key word is “thinking”. When I think more about it, I think it will likely hurt. In fact, if I took up running, some might confuse my pace with walking even though I could be pumping my arms very hard. If I think past the pain, I imagine myself running with joy and I sense of “I can”.
It makes me wonder what stops me from running. Well, I’d have to put on shoes. I would also need proper running shorts which would lead to finding a shirt that fit which would then cause me to wonder if I should bring water. How long would I run and what route would I take? Could I run somewhere where it was flat and I wouldn’t run into anyone I know?
So many questions. Likely I should just do what I always do and go for a walk. Clearly I am not equipped to once again try to run.
What raised the thought about running was watching the Tokyo Olympics. It was particularly exciting watching the women’s soccer gold medal final; Canada versus Sweden. This Olympics, the women in their Canadian red were using their past bronze accomplishment as the step to the top podium level in hopes of wearing gold. They were playing for the win.
The game was fraught with tension. Two talented teams battling in every play. No one let up and after two halves, the game was tied leading to 30 minutes of extra time. While pundits commented that the Swedes dominated the game in the first half, the Canadian women became warriors and raged forward to battle. They took chances to make shots and plays that kept them in the game. There were moments that could have been called as penalties but the refs said “play on”.
After 30 minutes of extra time the scoreboard didn’t move. Stalemate. Watching the players was exhilarating. Faces beat red from exertion, sweat dripped off their brows that were furrowed with deep determination. Feet clashed while fighting for the ball and the war for the win raged forcing a shoot out.
You could not help moving to the edge of your seat and watching the final moments. The goal tenders taking their place to defend the net. The players focused on the ball, looking to find the net. What must it have been like? The pressure; the knowing that “in the net” would rouse national roars of ecstatic pride while making a miss might result in defeat that would result in national loss. Mental fortitude replaced questions of “can I do it?” with “I’m giving it my best”. All deserve a standing ovation for being brave and courageous and standing in the arena.
The shoot out allowed for five shots by each team. At the end of the shootout, the game remain tied leading to sudden death. The sixth Swedish player took her turn and was denied. Canada stepped up. Time stood still, the silence was deafening with the only sound being that of beating hearts, thumping with anticipation. Deep breath. The world watched in slow motion, watching as that final shot saw the ball hit the back of the net. There was an eruption of joy! The scrappy Canadian team that fought with grit and determination won the gold!
And while Canada cheered, the Swedish team collapsed in defeat. To come so close and be denied despite valiant and magnificent effort. This was not winning versus losing; it was just the difference of one goal and I have to believe that world cheered for the chance to see two teams play with abandon and leave everything they had on the field. They gave it every effort and more.
The 2021 Olympics have given us plenty of moments in which we have witnessed humanity at its finest. Competitors that have bowed with grace and extended kindness and empathy. The arena is for those who are bold enough to take their place and give with great devotion, understanding that daring greatly comes with the risk of failing mightily.
When I sit on the couch and contemplate running, it is the equivalent of sitting in the cheap seats in the arena. I continue to mull over that what stops me is my long list of excuses and a dialogue that reams “I can’t because…..”. I lead my conversation with excuses. Poor ones at that.
Over this past year I have lamented loss and grieved at what no longer is. I saw things as “endings” and have worked to reframe that to expand to consider “endings are just beginnings in disguise” and I used a doorway to depict life as a my metaphor. Doorways have frames that lead from one room to another. I moved from a lifetime career and years of community dedication into a new room with a different door. In this room, I tried to reinvent myself which at first blush was rather charming but if you looked closely, I just changed my socks and wore the same mindset and accessorized with “can’t” on my t-shirt.
Since I didn’t feel I had much of a career left, I embraced my other role of wife and mother. I took June Cleavor as my role model as to what “mothers and wives do”. June was famous in the 1957 sitcom “Leave it to Beaver”. She wore high heel shoes and a pearl necklace when she faithfully cooked dinner night after night. She never raised her voice (only her eyebrows) and her house was a testament to tidy beyond reproach. She seemed happy as did her family. Despite the fact that this was a scripted show and likely written by men, I still took her on as my model. For months, I have been cooking, cleaning, shopping, organizing and trying to fit into my new room framed by the doorway built on 1950 values.
I put my endings and beginnings on a linear line. Lately, I have wondered if endings and beginnings could be more like a roller coaster where you ride up with anticipation and then around with excitement? I am feeling that my linear line could be changed to a circle. My linear line led me to the “end of the line” where I had the choice to fall off the cliff or make the jump. My new imagery and metaphor is no longer the door, I want to be on the roller coaster and enjoy the daring loops that come with the ride while waving my hands in the air.
I have searched all my drawers and the marriage / motherhood handbook is no where to be found. Where did I believe that being a “good wife and mother” meant being a martyr? Who said making lunch and dinner while shining the bathtub was a sign of love? I have a husband of almost 27 years, a 24 year old, a 22 year old and a 15 year old. I thought love was making them lunch. My new gift of love is now to let them make their own lunches and empower them to pick up the broom and give a mop.
When the kids were young, they needed me to look after them in a certain way and that ride is over. They don’t need that anymore and have actually been trying to tell me that. They need me to show them that a mother’s love is not bottled in cleaning detergents or mayonaise. My love is helping them live to get into their own arena and to do that, I need to be an example.
The light within shines when we turn it on. I have been secretly afraid that if I embraced the desires of the whispers of my heart that somehow I might fail my family and my perception of what I felt I “owed” them in my roles as wife and mother. My linear line served as a chain that was connected to perceptions that were bolted to the door.
A “wife” and a “mother” are nouns. Not verbs. I am only failing myself when I don’t listen to the whispers of my heart. If I voiced them out loud, I would bet that my family would become my biggest fans and eagerly jump on the roller coaster with me. I just have to ask.
I was afraid that endings might mean closing the door and I was afraid of what I might lose. I lost something anyway. I lost a sense of myself.
This is a new discovery that was awakened in me as I watched those young women play as warriors where their families and friends cheered them on.
In my efforts to move forward, I am so excited to change the shape of my dreams. “All or nothing” is about the effort I give to things I might want to try. It isn’t what has to happen with my relationships. I can start asking for help. We can plan as a collective unit in our family; “who is making dinner on what nights” is a good place to start. New conversations that include us all; not just me being the lone voice that reads from a 1950’s script. I’ll bet I might become someone more fun but I have to vocalize the whispers. Answering the calls of my heart’s desire doesn’t require me to abandon my family. It requires that I involve them.
I am so much more enthusiastic about my future. I know, there might be some out there who raise their eyebrows at someone like me who lived in the cheap seats because of antiquated thinking. It’s not that I always hid the light, it’s just I tended to shine it on those that I loved. What I see now is that a bright light shines wide and covers the whole stage when it is turned on. Suddenly, I realize that I have all that I need to start to run.
To you my beautiful people, I’m sorry I lived small and thought by doing so, that made you happy. I see now that you wanted me to join you on your adventures and live tall in my own dreams and ambitions. And like what happened when you would stumble and fall, I would kiss it better. I am comforted to know that you will do the same.
Here’s to changing shape, shining bright and getting into the arena and starting to run and more…..
With love,
Shelley
We all can grow strong; we aren’t meant to stay small.
And Then I Jumped...... 