challenge

We’ll all float on Ok.

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

I don’t seem to know who I am anymore.

Not so long ago I felt like I had it all figured out.  I’m a mom.  I’m a runner.  I’m a teacher.  I’m a friend.  Things were going well.  I had a wonderful new daughter, two amazing boys, and a fantastic support system of friends and family.  I literally had no complaints and was perfectly content any happy.

And then I broke…again.

This wasn’t like the first time I felt that I had broke, when my dad had died.  When that happened I feel apart all at once so it was almost easier to out myself back together.  The pieces were right there and easier to find, not scattered over space and time.

I wish I could say I knew the exact moment that it happened, but really it was a series of events that started small, each one separately almost microscopic in size, but together crumbled my world into a million pieces.

I cut back on my running and dropped out of the NYC marathon.

An old friend came back into my life just when I thought I was finally over our past.

I lost a person in my life who I thought was a good friend.

The separation began…and ended…and began…and changed so much that I don’t even know where we are at this point.

Most recently I’ve done things I probably shouldn’t have.  I’ve eaten things I probably shouldn’t have.  I’ve stopped running altogether.  With each passing day, the numbers on the scale keep inching closer to where I said I never wanted to be again.  And the worst part of it all is that I just don’t seem to care.  Not about being a bad person, or losing certain people from my life, or even losing everything I worked for.  None of it.

I feel like I’m on the roundabout on the playground spinning more and more out of control each day.  The sad part is that I know I’m the one that’s pushing it to go faster and faster.  I am in complete and utter control of this and I can’t seem to jump off and just stop. Because I know that when I do I’m going to break even more from the impact.  I know that I’m really going to have to work to find all the pieces and put myself back together again.  Not only in the “now” but in the past too.  The task seems daunting and so impossible that 99% of the time I don’t even have the desire to try.

But then, out of the blue, today happened.  The 1%.  The one glimmer of hope I had been hoping for.

We’re driving to the park and the library and all three kids are squeezed into the back seat.  Charlotte is singing along to Modest Mouse playing in the background while Oliver and Max argued about how many sheep are in an adjoining field.  The sun was shining in the blue sky as wispy clouds float by, my hand out the window rising and falling in the warm air.  I finally felt it.  What I had been longing to feel for so long lately.  A sense of peace and contentment.   A sense of placement.

This is where I was supposed to be.  Maybe not forever, but at least for right now.

And with that tiny feeling of hope, I know that pretty soon I’ll have enough courage to make the leap off the roundabout.  And maybe, just maybe, my feet will actually hit the ground and I’ll be able to pick myself up and begin to collect all the pieces.

I’m not me. But I will be soon.

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

I started the post awhile ago and then stopped.  There are so many truths within it that I just didn’t know if I was willing to face them.  By admitting these things, I feel like my life course, my life as I know it, essentially all that I am, will be different.  And I’m literally writing this after I had a mental breakdown on the side of the road at 5:30 in the morning.

I started running when my dad died.  Ok.  That’s not entirely accurate, but that’s the truth that I tend to tell people because it seems more acceptable than the real story.  More acceptable and less ugly. But really, what have I got to lose at this point?  Nothing.  They say the truth will set you free.  Well, maybe that’s just what I need.  Freedom from who I think I am so I can become the real me.

After my dad died I fell apart.  Which was odd to me because we hadn’t spoken in 5 years.  But I had often seen myself in him.  He was angry a lot and tended to push those who were closest to him away.  As I watched him die sick and alone I worried that this is what my life was destined for.  And I tried to run away from everything.  During that time I got caught up in a relationship that I shouldn’t have.  I thought it was healing me when in reality it was slowly dismantling me.  When it ended, leaving me heartbroken and empty, I had no idea how to handle two losses in such a short amount of time.  So I went for a run.  And it truly saved me. I had found something that could put me back together, slowly and piece by piece.

And it worked…for a time.

I loved being able to say I was a runner.  It helped me feel accomplished, like I could do anything.  It made me feel more confident and pretty bad ass. But it also gave me an escape from my life, the escape I thought I had needed before; a way to “run away” so to speak.  In reality, it didn’t save me from myself.  It simply gave me the outlet to gloss over my problems; to bury them deep down and save them for another day.

Cut to me crying on the side of the road because I couldn’t run.  I have so much going on in my life that I had begun to use running as that escape again.  Now I have an injury and can’t run.  What am I supposed to do?  Without the running, I’m actually going to have to face the demons in my life.  I’m actually going to have to figure out what’s wrong and get to the root of my problems.

And I don’t know if I can do that.  I’ve been putting them in the background for so long that I don’t how to face my problems without running away.  I don’t know if I’m entirely ready to make these hard decisions that I know have to be made.  I don’t think I’m disciplined enough to make the changes that I need to make in order to actually survive.

But maybe that’s why this happened.  Maybe this injury is the universe’s way of telling me to grow a pair and handle my shit.  Because life is short.  And time is not guaranteed.

I need to say good-bye to running for awhile.  I need to learn how to cope without it. I need to learn how to love myself completely without the label of being a runner.  Once I’m whole again, we can start our journey all over, when running is something in my life and not the only thing.

Here goes nothing.

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Fall down seven times, get up eight

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Everything hurts and I’m dying.

I literally don’t think I could get out of this chair if I wanted to.  And I only ran/walked 2.5 miles today.  This summer I was up to over 25 miles a week with my long runs between 10-14.  Today? The idea of running 10 miles at one time makes me want to kill myself.

And yet, I have an alarm set on my phone to sign up for a half marathon when it opens on Thursday.

I’m constantly starting over. And for no other reason than I’m constantly giving up.  Something happens when I get to a certain point in almost every endeavor in my life.  I leave it behind, trying to convince myself I won’t get any better, or that I’m just going to fail, or thatI have something more important that needs my time and attention.

But we all know this is crap.  And then I’m forced to start over again.

I constantly wonder how far along I would be if I simply stopped giving up.  When I first started I was “running” a 16-17 minute mile on a fast day.  And I would get better and faster, but never lower than a 12 minute mile and never for very long.  And now here I am,  not anywhere near where I started, but definitely not where I was.  And after just a day back into it I feel like giving up…again.

My word this year is (was) supposed to be “brave” but I’m not feeling very brave these days. I have all these plans and goals but I’m too scared to follow through.  Mostly it’s fear of judgment.  And a little fear of failure.

I want to do things.  I want to help people.  I want to make the most of this tiny amount of time we are allotted on this earth.  I want to claim my guaranteed entry to to the NYC marathon, but what if I flake out again?  I want to really start using my running to give back, like running with Back on My Feet, working with a population I respect and who needs so much love, but will always feel like I’m too slow. I want to write more, more than just these blog posts, but never feel like it will go anywhere so what’s the point?

I have so much trouble putting myself out there…really out there.

Brave?  Not so much these days…

But I guess the fact that I care at all is something.  I guess the fact that I always try again proves I’m meant for more.

I know who I am.  I know what I want.  I know what is important to me.

But knowing is easy.  Doing is hard.

 

 

The Forgotten Thank You

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

“We met for a reason.  You’re either a blessing or a lesson.” ~Frank Ocean

There are very few things we do without the help of others.  Many times there’s the “overt help”, the help you can see and understand, the type of help that never masks itself as anything other than help.  It’s help simplified or help understood.  We can take it at face value for what it is.

Then there’s the other kind of help.  The help that swoops in wearing a mask.  The help that may take days, or weeks, or even years to show itself.  The help that you are fairly certain is actually not help at all.

This help comes in so many forms: toxic friendships, heart break, depression, fear.  At first, these things are a negative force in our life, ripping us apart from the inside out, tearing us down so much that we believe we may never be able to build ourself up again.  We believe there is no way for us to ever be whole.

But you know what I’ve learned? This is sometimes the best kind of help.  While it may change our lives drastically, many times we come out the other side a little worse for the wear, but seemingly better overall. This is the kind of help that forces us to make decisions, make changes, face our demons.  This is the kind of help that not only changes who we are, but makes us who we are.

Usually we vilify those people who change our lives in this way.  We feel that that they’ve taken some essential part from us and we yearn to get it back, to make ourselves who we once were.  But for me, at least today, I want to say thank you.

Thank you to the toxic friends, without whomI never would have discovered some of the truly amazing people in my life.

Thank you to the those who have caused substantial heartbreak, without which I never would have found running.

Thank you to the depression that has overtaken me on numerous occasions, without which I never would have known how wonderful simple joys can be.

It’s time to put the past behind me and move forward, embracing everything that’s gotten me where I am today, both positive and negative.

I finally think I’m ready.

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And so we begin

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“I dare you to train for a marathon, and not have it change your life.”  ~Susan Sidoriak

Tomorrow’s the day. The day I take a breath. The day I move on. The day I continue moving forward. The day I put the past behind me.  The day I emerge from the ashes that is my mistakes.  The day I work for what I want. The day I make my plans a reality.

Tomorrow’s the day I begin training for the TCS New York City Marathon.  It’s going to be hard.  It’s going to be rough, on both me and the ones closest to me. It’s going to be life changing and that’s what I’m counting on.

I’m excited and petrified.  I’m ready and not ready. I’m worried and surprisingly calm.  I’m all this and more.  I’m a myriad of emotions I don’t even have words for.

Tomorrow’s the day…the day I become who I was meant to become.

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Through different eyes

/ Cassie / 1 Comment

“The greatest gift that you can give to others is the gift of unconditional love and acceptance.” ~Brian Tracey

As the impending due date approaches (it’s actually today) both little ones have been fascinated with baby pictures of themselves.  They’re constantly asking me to look through the old photos I have stored on my computer and happily I oblige, loving the trip down memory lane as much as they do.  Looking at the old photos convinces me that once this new baby comes into our lives, everything will be ok.  The pain and annoyance of pregnancy will have been worth it and while three kids seems daunting, so did 2 under 2 at the time.  We all managed those first moments and years relatively unscathed even though we had no real idea what we were doing.

But, as usual, I digress.  This post is about one particular picture.  While scrolling through the photos, Max made me stop at this one:

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I immediately grimace. Four months post-baby and I still looked like I had been hit by a truck.  Overweight, unhealthy, unkept.  I was probably 60-70 pounds heavier than I am now (at 40 weeks pregnant).  My idea of exercise was walking to the car to drive to the grocery store a half a mile away.  My idea of a good meal was multiple menu items at 5 Guys.    As I focus on everything I hate about this picture, Max looks at me and says

“I love this picture mom.  Can we print it?”

“Why do you like it so much?”

“Because it’s me and you together.”

And just like that, my 5 year old has proved he is wise beyond his years, that he is, in fact, smarter than me.  Because as I focused on all the things I hate about this picture, all the things that were WRONG with ME, I missed the most important part.  The picture captures a moment in time that he and I spent together.  While I focused on imperfections, he sees how much I loved him from the beginning.

And with that comment, I see how much he loves me too.

The unbalance between teaching and parenting

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

“Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.” ~James Baldwin

Every day as a teacher (a kindergarten teacher in a fairly unsafe area of Baltimore, to be exact) there are so many things I wish I could tell the parents of my students.  While I am teaching, I always think that I know better and wish that I could impart my amazing parental wisdom on the parents of my students.  I want to tell them to let their kindergarteners be more autonomous.  Don’t walk them to the classroom.  Let them put away their own stuff.  Don’t hover.  Step back.  Listen to them, but don’t believe everything they say.  Let them be who they are.  And many times, if I have a good relationship with them, I do say these things.

But flash forward to today.  It is my first day of maternity leave and one of the few chances I have ever had to take my child to school.  We live in a “nice” neighborhood.  My kids go to “nice” public schools.  Nothing at all like where I teach.  I feel like I have absolutely nothing to worry about.  And yet, when I had to drop my kindergartener off in the carpool line today, and watch him walk the less than 100 feet to the front of the building, blind panic set in.  He had to turn a corner where I wouldn’t see him.  There are literally 12 teachers at their morning posts.  And all I can think is “what if?”  What if he trips and no one is there to help him? What if someone in line teases him and he gets sad?  What if he gets distracted, doesn’t follow directions, and therefor gets in trouble?  It took every ounce of restraint I had not to park the car and walk to the front of the building to check on him…to wait and hold his hand for the two minutes he was going to be in line before entering the school building.  To give him one more kiss and hug so he knows someone on this planet thinks he’s amazing.

I went to school for child development.  I teach small children how to read and write and complete math problems every day.  I try to instill in them a sense of purpose, a sense of kindness, and the ability to stand up for themselves and the things they know to be right.  I am with them for 7 hours a day, 180 days a year.  And I see how able and capable they are and what wonderful little people and citizens they have become.  I let them run and grow and engage without hovering over them all day.

And yet, that is what I do to my own child.  I hover.  ALL. THE. TIME. Maybe it stems from bad early school experiences for him.  Maybe it stems from him being slightly weird or awkward.  Maybe it stems from me being slightly weird and awkward as a child or not having very close relationships with my parents.  I don’t know.  But what I do know is that I am constantly yelling at my husband for hovering and I do the same thing.  At the park.  At home.  In public.  I know what I should be doing.  I know I should stand back and let him just be “him”.  And yet I don’t.

Within the next few days, baby 3 will be joining us.  There will be less time and attention for my other little ones and I keep having this panicking feeling that I didn’t teach them enough on how to be independent.  On learning to engage with other children.  On what to do if someone teases you.  On how to stick up for yourself.  I worry and worry and worry constantly that I hovered too much and tried to control too much.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s time for me to let go…so they can just be.

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Yesterday was a good day.

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

“Running is like life, it’s a long journey, but well worth it.” ~Unknown

I needed yesterday. More than you know.

I woke up at 3:30 in the morning with the lovely pregnancy insomnia that has plagued me for weeks. It was also our first day without a delay or a day off in a week so the thought of working a full day was already tiring. When I couldn’t get back to sleep I decided just to get up and go for a run.

I hadn’t run in over a month and the entire month I felt off. February was rough. I had an extremely short temper with pretty much anyone that came in contact with me. I was angry, hostile, bitter. I felt like I hated the world. I felt like a terrible parent, a terrible wife, and a terrible friend. I blamed these feelings on the pregnancy and on the hormones, but really, what I think happened was that I just didn’t run.

Running has always been my therapy. As a kindergarten teacher and a mother, I don’t get much time to myself. Add pregnancy into the mix and most of the time that I had to myself had me being way too tired to do anything anyway.

I could tell you why I stopped for a month. I could tell you it was because the doctor recommended it (which she did, a least until 36 weeks), or because I was too busy, or because I was too tired. And for the most part all of these things are true. But the real reasons I stopped are far more shallow. I didn’t have a real goal to work towards to I slacked off. I got tired of seeing my mile times increase and increase some more. I got tired of seeing the scale go up incrementally.

So I stopped. I figured what’s the point. I would just sit around for the next few weeks and be lazy and grow a baby.

But what I’ve found is that I can’t stop. I need running. Like I need air. Like I need food. Like I need my family. I need it like my life depends on it. Because for all intents and purposes, it does.

So yesterday was important. Yes, I was more tired and sore than normal. But it didn’t matter. For the first time in a month I felt like me again. I felt positive. I felt ready. I felt alive.

So it’s time. It’s time to stop worrying about my time. It’s time to stopping thinking, period, and just run. Because you never know what amazing things lie on the horizon. And I know whatever they are, I can conquer them with my eyes wide open and my heart ready for anything.

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The Best Intentions

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

“Good intentions never change anything.  They only become a deeper and deeper rut.” ~Joyce Meyer

I’ve just turned 34 and I’m no better at this than I was at 24.  I make lists.  I make plans.  I identify things that need changing.  I’m proud of myself.  I’m able to take the first step.  Sometimes I’m even able to take the second step. I stick with it, for a day, maybe a week.

And then nothing.

I don’t know what it is.  I decided just one day off is ok.  I decide I need a break. I decide, for whatever arbitrary reason, that I deserve a break. Or I lose my cool. Or I break my promise.  And my one day turns into two, or three, and then, inevitably forever.

Why is it sometimes I can do it and sometimes I can’t?  Where in my brain is the motivation cortex?  The place that is supposed to help me keep going and reach my goals even when I want to quit.

I could blame the pregnancy right now and it would be so easy.  I’m exhausted and uncomfortable and will be for the next 2 months.  But that would be taking the easy way out because in reality, I was like this long before I became pregnant and long before I had two rambunctious boys to take care of.  I feel like I’ve always been of the “lazier” variety, of the “blame everyone but me” variety, of the “let’s make excuses” variety.  And as much as I make the conscious effort NOT  be like this, I always end up right back here at the starting line.

But I can’t stop, right?  As I do at the beginning of every month I have to believe that this month will be different, that this is the month where everything will finally stick and I will emerge victorious and transformed.  No more excuses.

The first step, no matter how many times you have taken it in the past, is always the hardest.

The 100 Mile Challenge

/ Cassie / 5 Comments

“Believe in yourself!  Have faith in your abilities!  Without a humble but reasonable confidence in your own powers you cannot be successful or happy.” ~Norman Vincent Peale

I decided that I would go again tonight, even though I knew it would be painful and tiring and slow.I didn’t make it for too long.  It was right before dinner and it was about 95 degrees…in the sun…and I was wearing black (what was I thinking?). The point is that I was sore, but I did it anyway.  The point is that I was tired, but I did it anyway.  The point is that I didn’t want to, but I did it anyway.  I did something.

I always heard that adage that exercise is supposed to make you happy.  While I do love my gym time (no kids, no husband, no one’s judgement) I never really got that “happy feeling” after a workout.  Better mood, yes, but happy?  No.

Until today…

After running my very slow run I came home and stretched for a full 20 minutes.  Then had dinner.  During dinner, I felt it.  Those endorphins that everyone is always talking about when it comes to exercise…and I loved it.

It made me realize there is more to this idea of running than losing weight, looking better, and building muscle.  My mental health can improve through all this too, and honestly, after what I’ve been through the past 6 months, this is the most important factor to keep me going.

In typical me fashion, though, I almost feel like I can’t do this without some sort of motivator…some sort of challenge.  So I am creating one for myself.  I tend to do this running “thing” for a few weeks before I become bored or frustrated or both.  I begin to feel like I’m not getting anywhere or am never going to be able to “really run” so I decide to move on to something else.  Not this time.  I’m going to stick with it until it kills me…because chances are it will do the exact opposite.

Without further ado…the challenge.  I’ve decided that between now and Christmas I will run/walk 100 miles.  That’s 17 weeks.  That’s approximately 5-6 miles per week, which is completely doable, and maybe even a little too easy.  The thing is, I know that life happens, illness happens, kids happen, weather happens.  And if set my goals to high, I may never achieve them.  IF it comes to the point that I will definitely meet my goals, I can always add more.  Here are the rules for my challenge.

  1. All miles must be intentional.  While I prefer that they all be running, I’m not naive and I know it will be awhile until I get there.  While walking is also fine, all miles must be accumulated when exercise is intentional.  I can’t just turn a pedometer when walking around the mall and have it count.  It has to be when I am actively seeking out exercise.
  2. All miles must take place on the road (track, trail) or treadmill.  No elliptical or pool miles allowed.
  3. No more than 35 miles may take place on a treadmill.  I’ve found that treadmills are a lot easier than roads so I need to have a real challenge.
  4. Miles in conjunction with races (Color Run, Color Me Rad, etc.) will count towards the final number.  If I’m putting in the work, I should get the benefits.
  5. Except in the event of (real) injury, I may not quit.

I’m sure I’ll add more rules as they come up, but I feel like, for now, this should cover it.  I’m excited about this challenge as well as having a “real world” long term goal.  I’m even more excited about the long term benefits, not only to my body, but to my soul.

In general, I’m excited.  Are you?

Miles to date: 3