Sometimes having others helps make things easier.
A love letter to Jen and Coco, and all my other incredible team members who show up for me in different ways.
I don’t consider myself a runner, but on a team retreat, I joined a 3-mile jog with two friends, who regularly run, and trusted them to lead without murdering my lungs. We agreed on an 11-minute mile pace (whatever that means) and I naively said, “Great, we’ll be done in like 20 minutes, right?” I have a degree in math and my brain is literally attempting to sabotage this entire thing with pathetic arithmetic.
Before we started, I felt both scared and determined. My body was awake, but I was unsure of what it could do. Full of questions about my physical ability and what mental hurdles I would face.
“Clearly the first mile will be easiest, right? I mean, I live at 8,000 feet and now we’re two thousand feet lower so I’m naturally advantaged, right?! I work out, I’m fit, I’m healthy, this is just a yog, with a soft “j”. You can do this. Then I’ll hit the middle point and have to deal with the finish line in my sights, at which point my brain will hyper focus on “are we there yet?” and I will tremendously suffer. Fuck me, what did I agree to?”
We started and I felt light.
“I am a runner.”
We kept going and I felt judgmental.
“You are NOT a runner.”
I start to focus on my breathing, but the breath is high in my lungs and neck, not low in my belly. It’s fighting to push out of my mouth and it doesn’t want to stay in my nose. It burns. I’m itchy.
“You meditate for Christ’s sake. What do we know? Count the breaths. Give your brain something to do. Relax your belly, let the air move freely. This hippie shit is bullshit is what it is, but you love it, you weird fuck.”
I start to sag behind a bit and I felt delusional.
“You have nothing to fear but fear itself… goddammit, FDR, that’s a terrible quote. You’re teaching us to be scared of fear and we need to befriend that shit or it’ll eat us alive. WT fuck. No wonder there are entire generations completely void of expression. In the face of a war, okay, I get it, but without context, people are stupid–we literally cannot be entrusted with wisdom at this level of nuance.”
I get the signal that we’re turning around. We’ve hit the halfway point.
Wait. Seriously? OMG. I DID IT!! I instantly felt hopeful. As Jen would say, I’m an eternal optimist. I don’t love acknowledging this because it sounds like I possess the innocent intelligence of a 5-year old, but you know what? She’s right. I live in hope. I believe in the best in people. It’s an insane driver for me. So yeah, that next panic phase creeps in immediately, the voice that tells me I’m fucked now.
“You still have to go BACK. You have to repeat what you just did. But don’t panic. No, don’t tell yourself not to panic. Befriend the panic… what the fuck does that mean? Are you there, panic? Hello, it’s me! Fuck, I don’t know how to befriend this shit. Wash over me, panic. Do it. Take the wheel, Jesus, or whatever.”
At this point, I closed my eyes, knowing that my visual power can push my brain into overdrive. I need another sense to connect with and feel. My ears turn on, but my eyes flicker open and closed because I’m doing this on a fucking 65mph one-lane highway. What the hell am I thinking?
“Surrender, you fuckwad. Just let that shit go.”
I can hear the sound of feet in front of me, shifting from dirt to gravel to pavement. I can hear the rhythm. How the subtle presence of soft crunching to rumbling to pounding is what I need to settle into.
“We’ve been here. We literally just did that. You can do it again. You can do hard things. Is this surrender? Omg, I totally get why people join Lululemon’s running club–this shit is a cake walk when you’ve got other people around. I’d totally have given up before a mile had I been solo. MUHAHAHA, I am invicible!”
I allow my feet to follow the rhythm, moving between the environments, only a few moments behind my leader. I find a rhythm that doesn’t sync, but compliments. My energy is matching even if the rhythm is different. We are building a symphony and I am in love with the story that unfolds. It’s bold, it’s powerful, it’s visceral. It’s raw and real.
“You are present. WE’RE PRESENT. Holy shit. This is presence… ahhh ball sack, my lungs hurt. I can’t breathe. It’s in my chest, it’s in my neck, why won’t it stay in my low belly? I’m no zen monk, why do I think I can run 3 miles without any preparation?”
I could feel tension building in my shoulders. My right bicep, which has been struggling with a little tennis elbow pain (no, I don’t play tennis, my cardio would be significantly better), is now crying. For some bizarre reason, I want to drop my arms, so I do, but I look like a raving maniac. They’re flopping all over the place, hitting my chest and flailing uncontrollably. My body is fighting the release, trying to replace my arms into that 90-degree angle that Jason Bourne has when he runs on the beach. A REAL runner’s form, not these limp hot dog dicks slapping in the wind like a wacky, waving inflatable tube man.
“Come on, Rocky… you did it before, do it again. Surrender. Let that fucking shit go. Who gives a fuck what you look like, this will feel good. Trust me.”
The awkwardness swallowed me whole and I befriended it. Yes, I actually do feel awkward and I am judging myself for looking like an idiot, but what if I allow all of this and just keep doing the movement that feels good? Like DANCING! Yes, like dancing!
My arms began to move differently, more natural, generating energy and moving it towards me in a pace that matched the rhythmic sound echoing in my ears. I was no longer leaking energy either, I was feeling fast. My neck relaxed. My body opened.
“We’re back in the flow, bitch. FUCK YES.”
Suddenly, the gap between myself and my leaders was increasing. Coco was sprinting and without hesitation, aside from a quickie mental “WTF”, I started to sprint, too. I could feel my arms slicing through the wind, the amplification of our pavement steps gaining tempo, the space around me felt cool, but my body was heating up. And then, in the most glorious sensation, I finally felt what I presume is the runner’s high. As she slowed, I kept moving forward with a momentum that felt out of body, gently guiding me faster and faster forward. My feet were light, my body aligned, any and all tension subsided.
“You’re flying, you son of a bitch. You are PETER PAN!!”
I ran all the way to the finish line. I was fast as fuck, boy.
At the end, I felt accomplished and deeply grateful. Shockingly not breathing very hard nor sweating. My mind and body were able to merge in a way that we hit a stride of effortlessness. It was shockingly surreal.
Fun Fact: I haven’t run in years and I was able to run a 5k and my first mile was actually my slowest.
I owe it all to my team. The incredible people who show up for me and love me for my whole self. While I am often their leader, I am not always their leader. When I allow others to help carry the pace and when I trust them to do it in their own unique ways, showing up as who they are, I expand my own capacity. The strength of community is what helps us move.
Faster.
Freer.
Further.
Together.
