The Wall

In my running, I have learned, very quickly actually, how not to hit the wall in races. I have worked out a plan that works and about 95% of the time, I execute it well and never even have to have a brush with the wall or a scare even.

I wish I could figure out how to do that in life.

For the last two weeks, I have been going full speed, all out doing the big move from Seattle (and Sausalito) to our new place in San Francisco. Moving is stressful. And top that off with the holiday season, I was expecting a bit of stress. I managed it well through the tough parts. I moved everything out of my storage unit last Saturday on my own (since the truck place called and gave me the truck a day early) into the 18 foot truck. Drove down to San Francisco on Sunday in merely 14.5 hours of driving, unloaded the truck on Monday afternoon and went to bed Monday night without a single box left to be unpacked in my room or in the kitchen. The week brought a flurry of activity and by about Thursday afternoon all I had energy left to do was collapse on my bed and take a 3 hr nap. I physically was hitting the wall. And within a matter of hours, I made another turn and smacked face first into the mental wall. And man, did that hurt. I tred water in that space until Saturday morning until about 6 miles into my 50k race and then managed to stay afloat until midday Sunday when a unwarranted lambasting sunk my spirits even lower.

A brief weekend respite.
Things that make me happy.

In reality, I should feel very accomplished since I can now tick off one of my goals that are the cornerstone of this blog: finding a place to call home. I am home. Yeah!! But instead of basking in that nice feeling, I am instead feeling like a failure. The wall has smacked me so good, every time and every direction I try to get up, it delivers another blow to keep me on my knees. It's the type of epic crisis of confidence that makes me just want to sit in the dark hiding under a blanket. It sucks to doubt your worth, to hate yourself, to be completely disappointed in yourself. And for no good reason. Instead of looking at what I have and am accomplishing, I can't stop thinking about all the things I haven't, the failures, the fall shorts.

Even feeling that way, I am able to not feel hopeless or even worried really. I know the feeling will pass. I have patience. When I was in Seattle last week, my cousin sang me a song she wrote about patience and it was beautiful. She reminded me that I have been and am able to be incredibly patient and wait for the right thing to come along. I will do what I can to make myself feel better and just ride it out, hopefully without blooding and bruising myself too much. I am proud of myself for trying to work through this on my own. I may have self-doubts, I may feel oppressively sad at moments, I may even loathe myself briefly but I also know that I am not really (or at least can work at not being) those things I am unable to stop telling myself currently. I have hung up the phone two rings in, deleted emails a half hour in the making in an attempt to see if I can handle this on my own. I have practiced good self-nurturing for the most part and even questioned writing this post. I don't want to rain on anybody's parade. I don't want to be a downer, whinner. I am annoyed with myself for feeling this way. It will pass, and I cannot tell you how much I look forward to that happening.... I have much too much to still accomplish and do and live to occupy the doldrums for long.