F*** Me, Me

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I had a conversation with myself on Saturday during my weekly long run. I'm training for a half marathon and, on Saturday, I planned to run more-than-seven-yet-not-quite-eight miles. I was in good spirits at the start. The weather was sunny and cool. The trail (the Lady Bird Lake Hike & Bike trail in Austin) was surprisingly not jammed with people. A couple miles in I still felt good which isn't generally a given with me and running these days. Many days I suffer from the first step to the last; luckily Saturday wasn't one of those days. 

[I think I need a preface here - When I do my "long" runs, I don't stretch them out into out-and-backs. In my twenties, I'd go out for a fifteen miler and occasionally be seven or more miles from home. I don't do that anymore. The absolute last thing I want it to crap out and have to walk MILES back to my car or house. Instead, I do short loops. For example, the Saturday run I started talking about above involved a 3.1 mile loop and a 4.1 mile loop (plus a half mile run to and from the trail).]

I ran the four mile loop first. I always run the longer loop(s) first. Believe me, there's nothing worse than turning at the "halfway" point knowing it's not exactly halfway and that you have farther to go than you've already run. So, Saturday, as I approached the end of my first loop, I pondered the necessity of the long run. I mean the half marathon isn't until February. Missing one "long" run (that arguably wasn't all that long) in December, couldn't hurt, could it? I was still feeling decent enough to continue, but being finished, I thought, would feel even better. 

It was then that I forged on ahead and did the final three-ish miles and began to really think about the difference between the verb "can" - regarding one's ability - and the verb want - regarding one's desire. I recalled my first "long" run a few weeks back - four miles. It was horrible, awful, and seriously no good. I wondered about my sanity. I mean after all, I'm forty-seven years old. What business do I have training for a half marathon? I can't possibly do it. 

Can't. 

What I was really saying to myself was I don't want to.

Want.

How do I know this? Because I damn well know I CAN run a half-marathon...if I want to. 

That's the crux of it, isn't? Consider all those things you haven't done in your life time. 

  • How many did you not do because you were not capable (ie. you didn't have the ability, the skill-set, the money)?
  • How many did you not do simply because you didn't want to?
If you're honest with yourself, like I'm being right now, the vast majority are going to fall under "Want" rather than "Can't". With the exception of "I can't go to medical school" (a goal I abandoned mid-high school when I realized I'd need math, science, and the ability to look at icky things without passing out), most of the things I haven't done have in my life have been because I didn't want to do them. I may have used the term "can't" at the time, but I promise desire always had more to do with the outcome than anything.
  • "I can't finish graduate school."
  • "I can't get published." 
  • "I can't play chess." 
  • "I can't run a half-marathon."
The true meaning of those statements? I don't WANT to put in the work.

A friend asked me the other day why I'm not running a whole marathon. I laughed and said it's because I don't want to. Oh, I could. I'm sure of it. If I decided to dedicate the time and effort and steel myself to the pain, I'd be able to. I've done it before - granted a lot faster than I could do it now - and I know I could do it again. Plain and simple, I don't wanna. I have a lot on my plate and I don't care to sacrifice anything just to prove to the world that I can 26.2 miles.

All that being said, I've been wrangling with another CAN'T recently. It involves going back to school and getting a degree in a field I love but one that happens to be glaringly absent from my academic CV.  My argument with myself goes like this -

Me: I can't possibly get into a graduate program for history.
Other Me: But maybe...
Me: I didn't even do a complete history minor in college. My background is in psychology, kinesiology, and liberal arts.
Other Me: History is a liberal art! And besides you have never failed in any academic endeavor. Ever.
Me: But...
Other Me: Is this about ability or desire? Can't you? Or don't you want to?
Me: Fuck me, Me. 

[FYI, the discussion about getting published goes much the same way]

And I guess that's where I am. I've accomplished a lot in my life. I won't bore you with a list. Suffice it to say that I know where I've been and where I am capable of going...if I want to. Will it be a graduate degree in history? A published novel? The finish line of a half marathon? 

I often tell people not to bet against me. I may not always win - my doubles partners can attest to that - but, once I make up my mind, I always put in a winning effort. So, I guess the decision then is mine - What do I WANT to do? 

And I'd argue that it's yours, too. What do you want to do? And more importantly, what you are willing to do to get it?  Undoubtedly, there will be sacrifice, fear, and self-doubt. But will you let them scare you away? Will you?

 I'm really hoping I don't. 

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