Posted by Amy | Posted in Having It All, Running | Posted on 01-01-2012
So I make the proclamation that I’m going to run every day in 2012.
And that’s an awesome idea, in theory, until New Year’s Day rolls around after a New Year’s Eve full of single malt whiskey and champagne.
I actually manage to get on running clothes and head out on the semi-rural streets near my friends house in Massachusetts. Yeah, that’s right, I’m bad. I run on New Year’s Day. Screw you hang over!
You pretty much know this isn’t going to be a happy story right?
You see that wee little hill in the distance?
Running is a metaphor for everything in my life, because, you know, I have to analyze and process everything. That’s how I roll. And this isn’t even a battle with the Crazy Fat Girl that lives in my head. I knew this run wouldn’t bust any Personal Records or anything but I didn’t actually expect to be crying and throwing up by the end of it. That wee little hill undid me. I’m pushing up the hill and struggling on this run like I haven’t struggled in a long time. I’m out of breath, I’m feeling the extra weight I’ve put on. I profoundly get connected all the things I didn’t succeed with in 2011 – Smoking, weight gain, eating McDonalds, relationships, finances, you know all that crap that you declare in the bravado of New Year’s day that you’re going to conquer and take on in those “Dear Diary” missives you pen to your self – “Ha HA! This year is going to be different and I freaking rock!”.
That’s what I did New Year’s Day 2011. And here I am one year later, fighting up this nothing little hill. The year’s worth of decisions I made under the guise of convenience close in on me as I hit that hill. Each foot fall sinks me further into all the bad and wrong things of 2011, it’s like running at the bottom of a ocean with a billion pounds of pressure of all my broken promises and lies to myself pushing down on me. 50 meters to the top of that little hill, I break stride and throw up when I realize I sold out on myself in 2011. Now, I didn’t exactly throw up because of this realization, it’s more like the whisky and dehydration finally decided to own the show, but hey, running is a metaphor for my life and it was just freaking perfect to be puking when I realize that if I was dating me, I’d break up with me because I can’t be trusted to follow through and fulfill upon my commitments. I sold out on myself and the promises I made. Jobs and making money, and my company and my projects and hell, stupid knitting projects came before my commitment to myself. I couldn’t find the time to run, or go to the gym or cook good food because I had to answer an email or return a phone call or damnit, I worked hard today so I deserve to kill zombies in a game for a bit.
So there I am, throwing up on the almost-top of this stupid hill realizing I didn’t do any of the things I wanted to in 2011. It then occurs to me that I now have a choice. I can choose to wallow in puke and woe-is-me, or I can literally purge all that out of my system. See that metaphor thingie there. I can choose to be my word and be my commitments. I can choose to have 2012 be exactly what I want. I can choose to walk the rest of the way up that hill, hit the reset button on my life, and I can make that choice at any moment. Commitment is nothing more than choosing what you’re committed to over and over and over.
And today I choose me