BTR, part 5: You go, girl

Just about everything worth doing is worth doing because it’s important and because the odds are against you. If they weren’t, then anyone could do it, so don’t bother.

I had just read these sentences on a favorite blog of mine, and it resonated with every fiber of my being. Something within me balks at taking the easy way, the predictable way, the expected way.

I’m going to do this course. I’m also going to be decades older than anyone on that cliff, that week in April. I’m going to be as prepared as I know how to be — physically, mentally, knot-ly. I’m going to venture to the outer solar system of my limits again.

I did that at least once before. It was when I was facing my 50th birthday and wanted to do something memorable. I applied for a spot in a popular half marathon, having never run more than a mile in my life, and that had been forty years earlier. When my name was selected, I went out and bought my first pair of running shoes. I couldn’t even run 1/3 mile. As I trained for 385 miles and 3.5 months, a subtle shift took place within me; I went from “Just what do you think you’re doing?!?” to “You can do this, you really can.” That finish line brought indescribable exhilaration.

I can do this

You go, girl.

Leave a comment: When have you pushed your self-imposed limits? What did you discover about yourself?

BTR, part 4: my understanding grows

[Continued from Part 3]

I feel so small underneath Delicate Arch

Some things you just deep-down ‘know.’ Others you must come to grips with, wrestle with, debate with. And sometimes a distressing combination of both exists, leaving the revelatory process to unfold in fits and starts. When what your gut ‘knows’ is different from all your excuses, justifications, and rationalizations, a powerful opportunity for growth presents itself.

If being pushed many fathoms outside my comfort zone was not exactly what I envisioned, what am I sure of?  This much: I know that I know that I know that this challenging course is what I wanted to do.  Ed’s few and choice words brought my desire, which seemed out of reach and impractical, into focus.

He had to silence my “… but… but…” as we walked Zip, the dog, through Durango. There really is no place for ‘buts.’ Do I want to know myself better? Do I care to be less constrained by my “I can’ts”? Am I ready to push against my self-imposed limits?

To Be Continued…