On the way to Houston, I started listening to Shonda Rhimes' book "Year of Yes: How to Dance It Out, Stand In the Sun and Be Your Own Person" which is narrated by the author herself. Listening to Shonda's journey in rumbling and rising strong was incredibly inspiring and confirming. I would have yelled "YES!" outloud numerous times if not for the embarrassment and confusion that might have caused in a crowded airplane or airport. Her work was yet another in a long line of books that have been helping my clarify, hone and amplify my vision of what I want to accomplish this year and who I am working to become. When the above quote wafted up through my headphones, it was a stop the presses moment. I listened to it over and over and over again. "Yes" I thought, "Yes to this. This is it". I immediately hit pause and pulled out my journal to revisit my 2016 goals. In big bold letters I wrote at the top of the entry "Cultivate Badassery". Those words captured everything I had been trying to describe below them. Those words are my fight song.
But the words also mean more to me than just that. "Cultivating Badassery" is also about the challenges I pursue, the way I face adversity, how I rumble with my feelings, how I rise strong. It is about pushing myself to my limits and putting myself out there. It celebrating where I am as well as putting energy and movement into where I want to be.
On Sunday, I ran the Houston marathon and didn’t run the time I set as my goal, but I was smiling until the end. I went in to run the Olympic Trials standard of 2:45, even though I had already decided not to run the Trials and instead focus on trying to qualify for Western States 100 at Sean O'Brien 100km on February 6th. I had let go of the Olympic Trials as an "A" goal when I decided to run Javelina 100mile. I knew that running 100 miles was incongruous to running a fast marathon, but I am also cheeky and decided to make a try for it 10 weeks post-100 mile anyways, 10 weeks that included 3 weeks of major sickness and the holidays which are the most incredibly hard time of the year at the bakery. But I lined up anyways, open heart, open mind. Curious to see where I am right now as I kick off the year.
I made it 20 miles on pace, then my hamstrings decided to stop working. I cannot really be suprised by this as there is no opportunity to run on that amount of flat in the Bay Area. I wouldn't expect myself to be able to run up and down big hills in a race if I didn't train on them, so I can't expect my body to sustain a repetitive use of a single muscle group either! But I was happy. Just to absorb the day, be there. I saw where I was and instead of beating myself up for what I wasn’t, I celebrated what I was. In progress, imperfect. A little bit extra, a little bit not enough but always actually just right for now. It is liberating to say “today was just my day to be on the road, the journey”. There is no defeat, no failure- just information, just lessons. How fascinating to live a life through the lens of curiosity instead of grasping to outcomes! Letting the experience roll over me like waves and through my fingers like water. I lifted my face to the sun even as my body failed me and smiled. The sun, the wind, the capability of a body. That moment. Not a victory, not perfect but wholly enough. Filled with badassery. I chose my framing of an imperfect experience, I chose happiness- that is badassery.
Don't get me wrong I fought like hell to run faster, to hold pace. I said YES, MORE, GO when my legs resisted. I fought and fought, until I knew it was not my mind’s willingness, just my body’s lack of adaptation to flat. I accepted it. I embraced my experience and smiled on. I passed many women in those last 6 miles and as I did, I noticed the looks on their faces- sad, disappointed, angry. I encouraged them, invited them to run with me. Seeing their faces, their pain and disappointed just confirmed to me that on this day, I would choose joy. I've been in their shoes, I struggled with my running for 2.5 years while getting the bakery going, never satisfied with where I was, always wanting to be somewhere else. It is a terrible way to live and this year, I chose acceptance. Of myself, of where I am.
Accepting where I am doesn’t mean I am not excited to continue to move towards where I want to be. Better, fitter, faster, wholehearted, contented, full. But I can relish the steps I take in life and realize that I didn’t need to get somewhere to be myself. Feeling like a badass doesn’t mean I am perfected, it means I can lean into my flaws and say, yep, I have wrinkles and that’s ok. It means saying, I don’t know where to start or where to go. And that’s ok. It’s enough to be ok. OK is still whole, not broken, not incomplete.
A work in progress that is showing amazing potential. Lament not what is left to do, improve, become, embrace, face or walk, it is all steps on the journey. And the journey is imperfect and that is enough. We are enough, we are badasses just as we are, wherever we are in our own journey.