Two things in recent months have told me a lot about my process, my brain and my patterns.
The first was discovered just around Christmas time when we were enjoying some mild temps here in Nebraska and, one morning, I decided to go for a run at the high school track.
There I was: in my ratty Umbro shorts, “Live Generously” free tshirt (in heather grey), some leggings, a stocking cap, and dreams of fitness as I started my laps around the track when I had the same thought I always have when I go running:
“Does my left foot hurt? How’s my gait? Am I getting too tired? If I get too tired, then I’ll get too exhausted and if I get too exhausted then I won’t come back tomorrow for another run. I don’t want to reinjure my foot. I don’t want to overdo it.”
Seriously. I have these exact same thoughts every time I run and they start invading my head about halfway through the workout. I must have been feeling particularly aware of my own brain that day because, this time, I decided to really consider what I was thinking and whether it was true.
No, my foot didn’t hurt. No, I wasn’t running funny putting my knee and foot at risk. No I wasn’t tired. No I wasn’t overdoing it.
And just like that: BREAKTHROUGH. You guys I have this same conversation with myself not just when I run, but when I undertake anything BIG or scary. This has been great information. Now, when I notice myself thinking those things, I just gently say, “I’m fine. I’m not tired. I am not overdoing it. I can keep going.”
And I do.
Miraval. Remember that place? So do I.
One day I went out to the horse ranch for the class I signed up for, “The Miraval Equine Experience” which I thought had something to do with a nice trail ride. It didn’t.
The cowboy, we’ll call him Mark, brought us out to the horse ring, introduced us to two big American Paint beauties and told us we were supposed to lift up the horse’s hoofs, clean out the shoes, brush down the horse and walk the horse through a ring of obstacles. And no trail ride.
And there I was: walking up to Butterscotch, approaching her just like Mark showed us, pinching her horsey achilles tendon or whatever and willing the horse to lift its hoof for me.
Nothing. So I tried again.
And then she did and there I was holding a hoof in my hand and supposed to start cleaning the shoe. All of a sudden, I got real spooked, dropped the hoof, walked away, heart pounding, staring at this horse questioning whether I could try again.
Power, fear, quit, recover, repeat.
I went in feeling confident, I went in remembering the instructions, I had some success and then immediately started doubting myself, bailed on the whole thing, walked away, calmed the heck down, and then tried again.
Thank you, Mark. Thank you Butterscotch. You just mapped out my whole life in a one hour horse class. My first impulse was to melt into a pathetic puddle at being so basic, but then my next impulse was to NOT melt into a puddle and USE the information for the future. I can use this. Just like the running thoughts, these thoughts are just something I’m used to doing. They aren’t even really true more than they are habit.
Yikes. I’m past wanting excuses. I’m past justification for why I do what I do. I needed that horse and that cowboy and all my feelings on display in the ring and now I know.
The moment of confidence is great, the fear isn’t bad, actually. THe fear isn’t the thing that needs to change. What actually needs to change is the quitting and recovery parts. That’s where I waste so much time. So no trail ride, but instead I got an insight into what I do and now I can work through it. It’s not fun to turn the lights on, but it helps.
Power, fear, quit, recover, repeat. It’s been my thing for some time. I like feeling the power. My next job is to feel the fear and not bail on the project. I can work through fear. I can work even while I feel like I’m going over a waterfall. I’m not tired. My foot doesn’t hurt. I’m not overdoing it. But I do want that nice peaceful trail ride some time soon. Love, Hope