a simple experiment

june has spurred a 30 day challenge:  run every day.  for anyone who knows me, this was not my idea.  i am not an athlete, i don't like to exercise and i hardly can ever do the same thing for 3 days straight, much less 30.  so, a challenge it is indeed.  

now don't go thinking i'll come out of this ready for my first marathon...or even a fun 5k, because i rest firmly on my idiosyncrasy that i absolutely, positively, hands down DO NOT like to be seen when i run.  i really don't know why.  it's just a thing. which is why i have been enjoying most of my daily jaunts post sunset.  it's like i have the liberty to listen to my own self and do what i feel is within me instead of pushing it a little too hard because i don't want the person driving past me in the car to see me stop.  it also allows me to shed the mom mask that i harness all day and unleash the suppressed dancer within; for i have secretly enjoyed busting out a running leap with an exuberant punch to the moonlit sky, spontaneously inspired by an interjection of a timely ooooh! in a classic michael jackson jingle.  but, even when i am running at my own pace, creating my own stride, i have discovered a pattern that unfortunately also applies to other things in my life.  it's about the finish line.  

i don't like to finish books.  i hardly stay awake long enough to see the final credits of a movie.  my house is mostly clean...except for the last few things in a pile that need to be put away.  i don't know why, but i do not like endings.  endings either leave me forlorn about the approaching finish and therefore longing for more, or they give me a false sense of weariness merely because the job is almost done and therefore i must feel like i'm tired.  for example, when i run the loop in my neighborhood, it is 2.8 miles.  not quite a 5k, so i'm comfortable with that.  it's still a stretch for me, and i begin my habitual huff and puff just as the final street light comes in view.  it's that last 20 yards that kill me.  so, i decided to test my theory.  

the last time i ran, i trekked down and back every single cul-de-sac on my loop, adding what i thought might be a half a mile.  my prediction was that my huffing and puffing would come premature to seeing that final street light, and that i would have to walk the last half mile, say, because my body can handle 2.8 miles and that's it.  well, i got lost in my music, and only remembered that i needed to start huffing and puffing when my triggering street light came into view.  isn't that stupid?  it's not a distance thing.  it's a mental thing.  to validate my observation, i tracked my distance when i got home and found out i had just cranked out four whole miles like it was nothing.  well, i sure showed that street light!  


so, my conclusion is that when i know the finish line is approaching, i automatically pull back.  sometimes it's because i don't want the adventure to end, and sometimes it's because surely my valiant efforts leave me obligated to feel overwhelmed with exhaustion.  this applies a vast span of operations in my life as well, from a simple entity such as laundry to as complex of a phenomenon such as planning for my future.  could it be a fear that when the comfort of my current, cozy and familiar motion comes to an end, i will ultimately have to face a new challenge?  don't be confused, though, i'm crazy about new beginnings, and am always ready for the start of a new adventure, but for whatever reason, when a green light in my life begins to take on an amber glow, i have no problem coming to a complete stop.  

"you have a choice. you can throw in the towel, or you can use it to wipe the sweat off of your face."  -gatorade