Battle of the Wills

I'm a pacifist by nature. I don't like conflict. I would go so far as to say I hate conflict and so I generally avoid it like the plague. Not to say that I'm above it by any fashion. No, I'm more of a good old fashioned passive aggressive aficionado. I've mastered it to an art form. Not something I'm remotely proud of, but quite frankly I learned from some truly gifted masters, so it is my go to when I don't know what else to do.

So imagine my surprise as I've found myself right in the thick of battle. Over the past week I've battled with children over all sorts of issues (and for the record, don't battle with children, you never, ever win). I've battled with the dog and I don't even know why he has been so annoyed with me and I've battled with my schedule to no end. But the epic battle of late seems to be with "will".

Here is how that battle seems to go "Will I be able to run today?", "Will my IT band cramp up like a super ball?" "Will my shins take another day of pounding?", and the mac daddy of all my questions "Will I be able to even run in this 1/2 marathon?"

For the better part of the past couple of weeks, I've pushed that question to the side and continued to push my way through. I've found a great trail right by my work and a sucker willing to run it with me (kidding Laura), which helps on the days that the battle centers around my insane work hours. While I have given up and flown the white flag on the original downloaded training plan and miles schedule, I have gotten at least 3 days of running in a week.

I have subjected myself to some of the most horrific pain ever, disguised as a "sports massage" in an attempt to bust up the knots in my "hammies" as my massage therapist calls them ( hey does that mean my legs resemble pork products?) and get me back out on the trails again.

I've given up my fruity alcohol drinks in exchange for lemon ice water in an attempt to keep me hydrated and on my game. And what have I got to show for all of this? Not much. Not much at all. Except the paradox of feelings of pride for sticking with it and trying so hard and the pangs of doom over the idea that this is still so far from where I need to be. So what does one do when they feel like they are in over their heads? Why we call for reinforcements of course. We call in the big guns. In my case that would be Sean. How interesting that a conversation that seemed so innocent would help me locate a superpower even greater than I imagined.

When I shared my concerns with Sean he informed me that I would be fine. Ok, that sounds innocent enough and it would have been had it stopped there. Oh, dear husband how much you could have saved yourself had you just stopped there. He then pointed out that I "just needed to stick with the schedule". Um, I can't stick with the schedule, my body can't take that many days in a row of running. Ok, well then you "better up your mileage so you are at least getting in the number of miles you need to be at in order to keep to the schedule". That damn schedule again. I curse the day I printed it out. He then went on to insert the last nail in his own coffin and let me know that "if I didn't think I could do it, I should contact the race so I can let them fill my spot with someone on the waiting list". Oh, grasshopper what have you done? You should have stopped with fine, you had me at "you'll be fine".

In steps the super hero "Passive Aggressive Girl". And what does she do? Why she does nothing of course. Literally, says nothing, for the next hour. This is her arena. Her specialty! She goes on with her day seething to herself, "why doesn't he notice how much stronger I've gotten? " "Why doesn't he see how regularly I have been running?" "Why doesn't he notice how far I've come from where I was?" "How about a nice serving of wow, you're a rock star!" And then I realize as I'm fuming at him for what he hasn't noticed, that it doesn't matter anyway. I noticed! Maybe I didn't before, but I do now. I don't need any reinforcements, I am my own reinforcement. Passive Aggressive Girl saved the day. (Look, this is my blog, my strategy. Could I have solved this much easier in a more direct manner? Probably, but who cares I'm not talking about that right now)

Oh, and as for my spot at the race? Sorry wait listers, I think I'll be saving that spot for myself.