My blogger friend Paul, at The Captain’s Speech, wrote me a motivational letter today for my upcoming marathon. You can read it here.
This is my response letter to him.
Paul,
Your letter arrived today, and your timing could not have been more perfect. By my calculations (since I don’t count the day of the event) my marathon is only…
(I had to look at the countdown on the website) 11 days and 6 hours away. Plus, by the time you read this letter, it will probably be even sooner.
You’re right. 26.2 miles is a long distance. It’s even longer once you convert it to metric. 42, 195 meters. Some days it seems impossible.
I am not a long legged athlete, with years of fitness experience, competitions, and thousands of hours spent training.
I’m 5’3″ regular mom. I am running to cross the finish line in St. George, not to qualify for Boston, or to set a new PR. The awards ceremony will probably be over by the time I complete my first marathon, and cross the finish line.
I was born in 1977, and I am turning 40 four months after the St. George Marathon does. That probably seems ancient, since you just turned 25 a couple of months ago.
Trust me, 40 will come faster than you want it to.
My face is becoming lined with wrinkles. Age spots are appearing on my skin. My hair is streaked with gray strands, and I wear tri-focal contacts. I didn’t know such a thing existed. Apparently there are enough people besides me with deteriorating eyesight.
I wear custom orthopedic inserts in my sensible shoes. I have loose, stretch-marked skin on my stomach I tuck into my running pants from giving birth to triplets, and several years spent morbidly obese. It’s pretty much the opposite of 6 pack abs.
I’m ignoring these truths about my aging physical body.
As you reminded me, I’m running the St. George Marathon, because I think I can… or I believed I could back in April when I signed up.
I’m Genealogy Jen. The Little Gen-Jen that could.
Middle age is approaching, but I keep moving, because I think I can.
Puff, puff, puff
Chug, chug, Chug,
My arms pumping back and forth in a circular, train-like motion like The Little Blue Engine from my favorite children’s book.
I think I can,
I think I can,
I think I can.
After 5 months of rigorous training, I am so tired, Paul. My body feels broken down and exhausted.
I am physically and mentally drained.
The goal I set months ago seems impossible. Today, I’m sniffling the word marathon through my pre-race taper cold.
Lately, I would rather be in my bed snuggled under my covers eating ice cream, watching romantic comedy movies than running or washing dishes or pretty much anything else right now.
Honestly, the changing season, with fall approaching tends to be challenging for me & my mental health.
Sometimes, the weight of my anxiety or depression make simple tasks like cooking dinner or washing the sink full of dishes overwhelming.
Sometimes, it can be really difficult to put one foot in front of the other and just keep going like you recommended.
Paul, I can not even begin to tell you how much waking up to your letter this morning meant to me.
I even re-read it to my husband and boys at the breakfast table this morning. You’ll be happy to know that they laughed in all the right spots.
I cried a little bit.
But this time, they were happy tears.
I cried a lot last week, and none of my attempted words seemed to explain concisely this emotional weight I am carrying right now.
I’ve read too many stories lately about people treating each other so horribly. I’ve also been digging into the remainder of my 40 fears.
It’s been a dark and lonely place.
I couldn’t finish my weekly blog post.
I feel overwhelmed right now, but encouraged thanks to your letter.
I think I can.
You are right, Paul. I can do it, because I can do hard things.
And so can you.
Whether it is an actual marathon, like I’m running, or the seemingly never ending race against an inner critic, or the trials life piles in front of us, we are all training for, and running our own marathons.
And like you said, we just need to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Your newly inspired friend,
Gen-Jen
Genealogy Jen’s Challenge of the Week Run or walk a mile. (I think that’s 1600 meters for most of the rest of the world who use the logical and efficient metric system) You can do it. You don’t have to be fast. As Paul said, just put one foot in front of the other.
Jen, I think you’re incredible and I hope by the time I’m 40, I have at least half of the drive and determination that you so clearly display. You are an inspiration to me. This letter was beautiful and I’m not afraid to admit you had me tearing up at some points. I know you can do this and I can’t wait to hear all about it when it’s over!
Do you mind if I share this post on my blog?
Thank you. I would be honored if you did, Paul.
You are an inspiration and I will be cheering you on from afar! 🙂
Thanks Saye! I appreciate all the good energy I can get.
Here’s what I know about the 40s: they are the best years of a woman’s life. I was the most beautiful (even with the stretch marks) and thinnest and living in NY and making movies. But every decade milestone feels crazy. You might remember the blog post I wrote when I reached 71. I’d partied my 70th and felt pretty good. For my 71st I went to the farm, alone, to sulk, found water in basement, researched pumps, pumped out and tossed stuff, by myself, and drove the three hours back to the city, and realized I wasn’t as old as I thought I was. Neither are you. Someone ( can’t remember who but that’s part of aging too) famously said : Age is a matter of mind. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.
You go girl! IF you walk across the finish line, you still cross it. Although I doubt you’ll be walking. Trotting maybe, but that’s okay too. It doesn’t matter.
Have fun!!! I’m proud of you
Janet,
Thank you so much for your encouragement. I have been thinking for the past day about my 40’s being my best decade. I think they will be. I’ve reflected on the things that people I know have accomplished during their 40s, and it is amazing work. I am working to rid myself of a lot of the emotional baggage and fears that I have been packing with me during my life journey. My hope is that it will create more space in my life to become. I remember that story well, and how I would have been so frustrated to spend my birthday cleaning up a mess. There are lessons in the messiness of life though. I value your wisdom and perspective so much. I also know that I’ll probably laugh when I am 49 facing 50 about angst I had ushering in my 40s.
Well you’re amazing and your response is so raw with your truth, that makes you even more amazing.
I don’t know that I can run a mile right now. When I’m at my best, usually a little over half does it for me. I have anxiety about heart rate and all that, so I’m a walker, yogaer, swimmer, dancer…
Great picture by the way! You look so strong and happy and pretty 🙂
Thanks Joey. I think walking, yoga, swimming, dancing whatever are all amazing. They key is staying active, healthy and physically fit as much as we are able to in whatever form that comes. I know that it depends on what other things are happening too. It makes other things in my life easier to manage when I have my physical body balanced. PS Thank you for the complement.
Best of luck with your marathon! The most I’ve ever done at one time is a 10k, unless you count the 8.8 mile hike I went on recently. That was rough.
I found your blog through Paul, so I’ll be happy to cheer you on from across the internet as you cross the finish line!
Thank you so much. I really appreciate it!
I saw Paul’s letter to you & I wanted to come by, read your response, & offer some words of encouragement!
What you’re doing is so impressive, & I’m not only talking about your marathon goal. Taking on life with such verve & dedication, raising 3 children, not letting your age (as much as you can; we all fall into that sometimes) define who you are & what you do… it’s all impressive.
Difficult as these times may seem, Paul gave some great advice. No matter where your finish line is – on the marathon’s path or in a kitchen that needs cleaning – “putting one foot in front of the other” is applicable. Do one dish… then another… then the forks… each task looks unmanageable if you look at it as a whole, but, broken down into a single part, it’s less overwhelming.
Best of luck!
From: a total stranger (who apologizes if my comment is out of line).
Thank you Ariel. I appreciate the words of encouragement. Thanks for stopping by. I’m not easily offended. No need to worry about that. Breaking it down into smaller manageable steps is how I’ve been able to accomplish most of my goals. Sometimes, simply choosing to leave a blanket cocoon is a major victory.
Thank you for not being offended. As I typed, I was thinking that it could be annoying to have some stranger coming to your post & making recommendations/suggestions. More than anything, I wanted to offer some words of encouragement to you.
I know those days too (chronic pain condition + depression). What I’ve done on those days is to celebrate leaving my bed & every little thing I manage to accomplish. Sometimes, that’s all you can do.