I have done this before. I start with the vague semblance of hope before my insecurities get the better of my efforts. Truth be told, I’ll probably do it again down the road, but that is me going and getting ahead of myself. Very skilled in that regard. I’d like to think it’s different now, with the added “benefit” of the experience of age, poorly-functioning emotions, and questionably-functional body parts dragging me to my mid 30s. And yet, here I am. Typing about running and the self. Again.
To cut to the point, I want to find a happy, yet borderline uncomfortable balance in sharing the weekly thoughts on what is to be my upcoming focused training cycle that starts as 2019 comes to a close. So, what better place to start than in the quiet and still days leading up to week one? I have not done public-facing prose in a rather long time, so this can become yet another point of connectivity to that which holds me accountable. Don’t know if I need it, but it creates another prong of stability. Don’t know if I’ll toss this in any social channels so as to make anyone aware of my blathering, but it will be present. Tied to my name. That matters more to me than a link dumped into Twitter.
I don’t know if I need anyone to be aware, but I also don’t need to feel as if my thoughts and feelings should be cloaked away, hidden. Sort of what led me to drift away from writing entries in the past. Drift away from a lot, really.
133 days until a race with an affixed bullseye. The want to feel challenged, to spend that time building lies ahead. Building strength of all sorts. Reconnecting with something I considered lost. I will place pressure on myself and benefit from knowing that I can place my wants and needs first, and hold myself to standards higher than most. Feeling able. Present.
I am hopeful for this journey because I want to be.