I woke up early on Sunday ready for my weekend workout with my trainer. But after 25 minutes of waiting in the park, cleats on, mat rolled out, warm-up completed, I realized he wasn't going to show. I had two options: Go back to bed (very appetizing) or expend energy.
I opted for option 2.
Came home.
Changed out of cleats and into runners.
Texted my running buddy.
She's in Hawaii (jerk.)
Texted my hiking buddy.
"It's Sunday morning and it snowed all night. You crazy?"
Pansy.
Called M.
No answer.
Left message explaining the urgency of needing a trail run.
BBMed to show persistence.
Texted twice.
Peer pressure worked (Victory!).
He texted back, and said: "ok. I'm in. Meet me on the North Shore. Bring coffee."
We laced up, bundled up – hats and gloves on, three layers on – then hit the Lynn Valley trail.
"can't wait to expend energy!" I said slightly weirdly.
"Let's go!" he said and took off down the trail.
Three minutes in, my initial plan had been thwarted.
The trail was covered in ice and snow. Slippery in some parts. Sticky in others. Vicarious all around.
And instantly, my body went into protection mode.
Immediately, on my first minor slip, my brain went into code red.
If you slip, you'll hurt your back, I thought.
And I started to get nervous.
M trudged on effortlessly ahead.
I slowed. Took cautious steps. Held tree branches. Even crawled on all fours at one point.
It was disastrous.
The more I went on, the more my fear escalated.
The more the fear escalated, the more debilitated I became.
And the more I realized what a pansy I was being, the more my self-confidence plummeted.
M waited. He encouraged. He said things like "Hey, if I broke my back two years ago I'd be scared too."
"stop waiting!" I said.
"Go on!" I nudged.
My pride was getting the best of me.
I felt low, incapable, and inactive.
"Let's just walk then. It's amazing in here," M said.
"WALK?!" I almost spit at him. I looked at him with venom in my eyes. "I didn't come to WALK. Hmph."
I treated him like he had just asked me to run naked through a field of barbed wire.
After months of feeling strong again, I felt right back where I was two years ago.
I was frozen in fear of hurting myself again.
And then it came to a head.
I cried.
Big fat wallowing tears.
Sobbed.
M laughed.
(In hindsight: totally laughable. I was being ridiculous.)
I blubbered.
I felt sorry for myself.
I called myself every unflattering thing I could think of -- slow, fat, boring, incapable, pansy -- and on and on.
It really was a show.
And then I pouted as we trudged slowly back to the car.
I was utterly, completely miserable.
I was so mad at myself.
Angry at my back.
Pissed off at the concept of fear.
Irate with the way of the world.
I was a black cloud of despair.
"Man, it was beautiful in there," M said with a smile.
"Mmmph" I replied and stares straight ahead.
But I started thinking "shit, he's totally right."
I live for days like this. For the opportunity to spend time outside, breathing in fresh mountain air, being in the company of birds, new snow, and mighty douglas firs. I mean, this is the stuff that makes my heart sing.
And I wasted it on fear, self-pity, and general self-destruction.
Man, I could kick myself.
Then M said "We'll come back next week with crampons and we'll kick this trail's ass."
I smirked.
Yeah, that sounds perfect.
And so I picked myself up, apologized to M, took a good long look in the mirror and realized how far I've come on this journey...
Onwards I go.
