How am I so tired from a weekend full of swimming, biking and running and not even training for anything at the moment? Goodness. I took most of Sunday to lounge, Couch Club party of one plus snuggly coonhound. We watched three movies. I could think of zillions of productive things I could and should be doing, but I choose couch! No regrets.
My energy was used first on Friday night, with my friend Becca at the pool. She invited me to come swim with her, dabbling in the idea of doing as many 100s as possible. We dabbled into a local bakery first to buy cookies and then hit the pool…. So, we ate cookies and swam 2,500 yards each. Social workouts, cookies, and friendship are pretty great.
Saturday morning I went to my first team indoor ride–on the new tri team I joined for 2018! It’s something I have been arguing with myself about for weeks now, should or shouldn’t I join? First I convinced myself that I didn’t belong. Then a great friend reminded me of the phrase “The stories we tell ourselves”. I told myself a story and then added a based on a true story plot twist at the end of this mental battle. I joined! They like me. I like them. We’re one big happy tri team! John and I went to their holiday party later that night and when we left he couldn’t stop gushing, “Wow, they’re SO NICE. Everyone is SO NICE! That team is SO NICE!!”
Have I mentioned kindness is really freaking cool?
Sunday morning I went to our local She Runs This Town group run and was so happy to see a larger than normal turnout! I think we had 19 women get out of bed early to run in a balmy 30 degrees. After the run we had coffee and I had the pleasure of listening to a girl share her very personal story of overcoming self-sabotage. I was fascinated and asked a ton of questions because it was on a topic that hit home for me. As she spoke very passionately about it she kept interrupting herself saying “oh my gosh, I’m rambling” but I insisted no, I’m asking you questions, I want to hear your story!
That’s the thing about our stories. When they are personal and potentially not so glamorous, they should be shared. She had no idea that it touched me to near-tears. I mean, I could have sobbed but I held back, because hey, who invited the weirdo to this group run? Hearing her story helps me, and maybe someone else who was at the table. I’m even more amped up to continue to stay on track with my climb out of the self-sabotage hole that I’m not quite ready to publically blog about. And here I am contradicting the point of this paragraph to share your story.
Sigh. Share your story. You never know when your strength is the kick in the pants another person needs.
Eat cookies, swim, find a tribe of really nice people, run, and share your stories with one another.