Stories Matter, Your Story Matters

I shared this story on my Facebook page and felt like it should probably be shared here on my blog. Stories matter, never stop sharing them with others.

A couple weeks ago while I was running I found myself seemingly alone with my thoughts, away from other runners — and well pretty much everyone.

Now, as much as I am a social runner, I do love and need moments of solitude. Being alone with my thoughts in order to process life has been very healing and empowering for me over the years.

However, in this moment I found myself alone with the thoughts of my running journey. I have run over 250 races in the past decade plus, including over 175 half marathons and a handful of ultras and marathons. Yet, here I found myself, struggling through this run. However, not only with my legs, but my mind as well. I don’t need to rehash my injuries and physical struggles of the past three years — it’s well documented.

And, that’s not what was pressing on my mind the most in the moment. It wasn’t even the mental struggle of what it takes in coming back from physical setbacks either. The heaviness I felt I was the weight and worth I felt of my story, my journey.

Nearly 14 years ago after I hit, what felt like rock bottom, I woke up to a new mindset and optimism both physically, mentally and spiritually. I made a promise with my Heavenly Father that if He helped me, I’d share my journey candidly and openly for others to draw inspiration from, because I knew I wasn’t alone in the struggle.

So that’s what I did.

I began sharing my journey mainly through social media and my blog, before getting into podcasting. The inspiration I shared and drew from others helped me along the way as I lost over 180lbs., got immersed in the running community and found peace spiritually and mentally.

I thank my Heavenly Father often for that opportunity He gave me, because I have very dear friends today that I know I wouldn’t have otherwise. I feel this emotion no stronger than when I have to say goodbye to the ones who’ve left too soon.

I share all this because over the past several years, I’ve lost my way. Sure, injuries and surgeries have drawn me away from the sport I love more than I’d like. But, it’s much deeper than that.

Over the past several years I’ve allowed others to label the worth of my story. I put too much trust in their opinion that my story wasn’t that unique or special, because “everyone has a weight loss story.” They even encouraged me to just give it up entirely because of the time I put into it.

I have never pretended to believe that my story was uniquely special. Yes, there are a lot of running and weight loss stories out there. But, I don’t see an oversaturated field of similar stories, I see a sea of voices sharing hope with others who are trying to find their own way.

I have had too many personal experiences to deny the power of one telling their story. Even if a story might not appeal to the masses, if it appeals and inspire one soul — it must be shared.

Yet, here I was a few weeks ago running alone with my thoughts realizing the weight I gave these other people, purported friends, over the worth of my story — and it hurt. I felt an array of emotions, even emotions I thought I had previously processed and released.

Realizing this negative emotional cycle I was entering, I quickly released those emotions so I could focus on the core of what I was realizing — NO ONE can dictate the VALUE of YOUR story other than you and THOSE who accept it. There is value in ALL stories.

This was a very powerful moment for me. A wave of gratitude, forgiveness and resolve hit me in what felt like one emotion. I let go of that pain and resolved to keep that promise I made to my Heavenly Father nearly 14 years ago — to share my story for others.

I don’t share this story for sympathy, I share it as a reminder that we all have voices and stories to share. But, more importantly, we all have empathy to give. But, how can we give empathy if we don’t share our stories?

My hope in sharing this experience is the belief that someone out there needs this reminder as well. Stories matter. Your story matters — your struggle is your struggle and your triumph is your triumph — no matter the arena.

Share your story. It has worth.

RACE REPORT: Drop13 Big Cottonwood Half Marathon

It's been a few days post-race and quite honestly, I'm still processing this race. Leading up to the week of this race I wasn't 100% sure whether or not I was going to do it. I've been running the canyon over the past couple of months, cutting weight and getting myself where I'd like to be.

However, I'm not just not where I'd like to be.

I had a million reasons to justifiably not run on Saturday. And, believe me, up until last Wednesday when I finally signed up I convinced myself of all million reasons, i.e. - my longest run was only eight miles, I haven't done enough mid-week runs, my quads will kill come Sunday, I'm too slow, I'm too fat, I'm too gassy, I'm not going to meet the cutoff. I could go on with the list.

But, I came to two realizations in my final decision to run the race -- one, I know I can do the distance. I've proved that 170 times before; and, two, I need to stop letting what I can't do get in the way of what I can do. Meaning, yes, I currently can't run as fast I did this time last year or a few years ago, but I can do it and I should do it instead of feeding my doubts.

So I signed up.

Luckily this race has an early start time for slower runners. This helped in my decision to sign up, because it helped ease many of my fears of meeting the cut-off time. So instead of the 6am start with the rest of the racers, I started at 5:30am with a hand full of runners like myself.

Since I opted to get my race bib on the morning of the race I had an earlier morning than most, so I was out the door by 2:45am. However, I grossly overestimated how long it would take me to drive to the pickup so I ended up with a lot of time before the buses were supposed to leave for the start line. So I decided to hop in and help load buses.

For about an hour I ended up loading buses, which sounds like a tougher job than it really is. All you need is a loud voice and make quick decisions with confidence to make it look like a pro. I had to laugh later in the race, there were a couple of runners who stopped to ask if I was the one who loaded the buses earlier that morning.

Yep, that was me.

I hadn't completely loaded all of the runners before I had to leave. Since I was starting at 5:30am I had to make sure I didn't take one of the last buses up the canyon, so I ditched my post around 4:30am to take an empty seat on one of the buses. I'm glad I did because if I waited for the other buses that were coming back for a second trip I would have missed the 5:30am start time.

However after the bus dropped us off at Solitude I took a quick trip to the Honey Bucket before walking the quarter or so mile to the start line -- which I got to RIGHT at 5:29am. Talk about perfect timing. After a 30 second stretch I was off.

My game plan for the race was simple, just follow my run/walk routine of run 3 minutes and walk 1:30 minutes. I knew I wasn't going to be able to maintain this routine for the whole race so my plan was to do 3 minutes run, 2 minutes walk for the first 2-3 miles (until I warmed up) and then the regular routine for the rest of the race. For the most part I kept to the plan ... untiiiiiiiil about mile 9.5 when my watch died. 

Since I don't use an app to keep track of my run/walk I had to eyeball my routine by watching the time on my phone. It was a little annoying, but to make it easier (especially since my legs were feeling a but mushy) I went back to a 3 minute run and 2 minute walk. Again, with no stop watch or app that was eyeballed. I'm pretty sure I had a few 3 minute walks and 2 minute runs in there.

With all of that said, I felt strong. Much stronger than I felt like I was capable of doing. During my mid-race miles I even ran through some of my walk segments because I felt good ... and the terrain was downhill, making it easier to keep running than slowing down.

But, honestly, I was just thrilled with how my body felt throughout the run. Was I slow? Absolutely. But, not as much as I expected. I still pushed myself throughout the run. But, even more importantly, my legs and feet didn't kill like I expected them to come Sunday. Sure, they were sore, but nothing a little Ibuprofen could fix. 

So when I hit the last half mile of the race I was feeling pretty ecstatic. Especially when I realized my time was going to be under 3:30 hours. I won't lie, I got a little emotional about it because I hadn't felt this way, physically and emotionally at the same ... in a long time. It's a feeling I crave when I run. 

Once I crossed the finish line I was greeted by my friends Jim and Richie T emceeing the race, Amanda with my race medal and a tub full of Fat Boy ice cream. Dang near nirvana in my opinion. I just couldn't be happier with how my race ended up. It was perfect.

Then I slept for pretty much the rest of the day.