Barbie … on Crack.by caroline
This morning, I woke up to this view and couldn’t help but snap a photo to share with you. Apparently, the moon decided it wanted to hang out a bit longer.
Nearly every Sunday, my family and I go on a run together around the city. As we were taking it up a familiar hill yesterday, my sister and I started laughing about a less-than-satisfactory experience we had once had running up that same hill several years ago. I got to thinking about that day and that, while I can now look back at it fondly, it was a rather difficult time in my life. Physically speaking, I was not where I wanted to be and on the mental homefront — well let’s just say I was a bit of mess.
But even in the midst of all that, it was running that helped move me through so many of those difficult moments. I’m not saying it was easy. Believe me — I had my days. Instead, it was a catalyst, an open door that helped me to recognize there was something larger, something more powerful out there that could help guide me through that difficult transition. As my body re-learned what it felt like to hear my feet hit the pavement, to swing my arms and push through moments of feeling like my heart might explode, I was reminded time and time again:
You are alive.
And like that big moon shining over the city of Pittsburgh this morning, I too was aware that a new day was on the horizon, waiting for me to take hold.
I wrote this in January 2008, posting it to a healthy living blog I was writing at the time. Enjoy!
Several Reasons Why My Sister Requires Rehab
So, I went running with my sister, Amanda, this morning, and here are two things that I now know for sure:
A. I am in worse shape than I thought.
B. My sister is on crack.
She is a crack-smoking, way-too-cheery, swingy-ponytailed, freak.
Here’s the deal. While I have been engulfed in a year of lazy-ass-ness, my sister has been running every day, eating healthy crap and completing the Washington D.C. Marine Corps Marathon.
Yep, that’s right, folks. She hasn’t just been running. She’s been running so damn much that I prayed that today — if only today! — would be the day her stupid swishy ponytail just said, “Alright, I’ve had enough!” and fell off.
Then, we could have stopped.
But it didn’t. And, instead, I chose to run one of the hardest hills there is in Pittsburgh because I have an ego problem. That, and the fact that I am a bit of a masochist, did not help my run with Barbie on crack.
Did not help at all.
Of course, instead of being intelligent and starting out slow after taking such a long exercise sabbatical, I decided to go all out. I have never been good at understanding such silly terms as “easing into it” or “beginner” or “sane.”
So, top off my Type-A personality with my juiced up sister and you know that I am just not going to be able to get out of bed tomorrow.
And if the fact that my sister is more athletically-advanced than I am right now is not enough, I must express one more thing to each one of you in order for this psychotic run to seep it’s way into your little brains:
The girl will not effing shut up.
I mean, I am literally begging for air and she is talking to me about the bagels she ate last night. As if I already don’t want to kill her, she is telling me about an activity that I would much rather be engaging in at that moment than running with a blabber mouth.
And then, she keeps talking. And I try to respond. And she talks. And I gasp. And she talks, and talks, and talks. And I search for the nearest person who may be carrying an inhaler.
And then …
we are going downhill.
I feel my naturally-imbedded pace begin to sink in, and I look over to my right at the cracked-up chatterbox.
And I realize what I have been missing.
That pain and hurt, and the feeling of weakness and strength duking it out is one of my favorite things about running.
And running with my sister … Well, I guess I missed that, too.
Share please: How has fitness helped you through difficult life moments? What did you learn?