What am I missing?

Happy 18th birthday to my lovely girl. Another year has passed granting me another opportunity to celebrate you, my sweet, wonderful, and oh so lovely girl.

You are another year older and wiser, and we are another year into our relationship. Learning how to sometimes be your friend, while always, and most importantly, being your mom. I’m just so in love with being your mom.

Legally, you are a grown up now; a young adult. You’ll graduate high school soon. Go off to college. Navigate your life, on your terms, in your way.

I hope the world greets you with kindness as you begin your adulting journey. My hopes for you my most beautiful girl, today and every day, are also. . .

• That you find the best way to be the best version of yourself, whatever that may be and wherever you have to go to do it. I hope that I have empowered you to follow your own unique path. I hope you know that you are valuable simply because you are you. There is no one like you. Don’t confuse what you do with who you are. Remember, you are enough.
• That you know that this is your life to live. Not ours as your parents’. Or Alex’s. Or your friends’. Or anyone else’s. And when the time comes, and it will, it won’t be your partner’s life either. Live your best life sweet girl.
• That you know that you are braver than you believe; stronger than you seem; and, so much smarter than you think you are. I hope you see your potential; your greatness; and, how much power you possess. I hope that you know that you’ve only just begun to scratch the surface of how truly amazing you really are. I hope that you will always push yourself to explore; to crack the surface open; and, that you will dive into life and fully experience your greatness in all of its forms.
• That you know how smart you are, but that you continue to learn. Read. Write. Explore. Listen. Most importantly, listen. Talk to people wherever you go. Ask a million questions when the times are right. Listen to the answers. Don’t stop learning. Ever.
• That you will love your body. It is yours to love and honor, and above all else, respect. I hope that you will take care of your body and not worry about your jean size. A number on the scale is not who and what you are and it never will be. Nor is society’s perception of you and your beauty. You are your kind of beautiful.
• That you know that you can have everything; just not always all at the same time. I hope you will learn patience and persistence. You will find your way. Be ambitious and gentle with yourself at the same time. Show yourself some grace, even and especially when no one else does. That will be the time you will need it most.
• That you never let anyone or anything take away the unwavering joy that allows you to see beauty in every face and around every corner. I hope that you know that your happiness is your responsibility. Don’t give anyone else the power to control your happiness. It’s a huge responsibility, and it’s yours and yours alone. I also hope you know that it is not your job to keep the people you love happy. You’ll want to, but you can’t and that’s ok.
• That you don’t take things, or yourself, too seriously. I hope you always remember to laugh; have fun; take time away from the day-to-day drill; and, occasionally “waste” the day doing things that make you happy. But, don’t make it a habit. And remember, when you fail, it’s not the end of the world. And when you succeed, it’s not the pinnacle of life either.
• That you don’t panic if you aren’t happy all of the time. No one is even if they claim to be. No one is supposed to be. Life is full of ups and downs; peaks and valleys are normal. Persistent happiness is not. Instead, I hope you seek contentment in your life. I hope you keep the faith that you will get through the lows, because you will. I hope you are able to enjoy the times that are happy.
• That you understand that while feelings will pass through you, you have the power to choose how you ultimately respond to them. Once you understand this, you will have a much better shot at being happy. You are in control of your thoughts and your actions. No one else’s. Once something has happened, you get to choose how to think about it and how to respond to it. I hope you will respond and not react.
• That you will practice kindness towards others, but also kindness towards yourself.
• That you operate from a place where you assume good faith until proven otherwise; I hope that you won’t think that the world is out to get you or that people exist only to irritate you. Even if it feels like it, it may not be about you. It won’t always be about you. I hope that you will assume the best in others until they prove to you that they don’t deserve it. I hope that if they do show you that they don’t deserve it, that you are suspicious. And careful. When people show you who they are, please believe them. I hope that you won’t waste your time on people who make you feel worse after you spend time with them. Be selective. Your time is precious.
• That you will have best friends. I hope you have best friends that are worth their weight in gold. It might take you awhile to find her, him, or them, but when you do, cherish their friendship. Nurture it. Treasure it. Don’t ever take it for granted. Be selective of those that make it onto your post it.
• That you show up when you say you will. On time. I learned this lesson late in life; don’t be like me. Always show up for your people. I hope I’ve been an excellent example of this. Keep your word and do the things you say you will do. You’ll never regret doing this, even when it’s hard and you don’t want to follow through. Listen more than you talk. Work hard. Always. Relentlessly. Remember: all that separates successful people from those who are not, is that successful people do what unsuccessful people won’t do.
• That you are bold in your business when you conduct it. You matter. Your needs matter. Your ideas matter. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Don’t be afraid of money. But don’t be a slave to it either. Money is an instrument of freedom, but nothing more. Learn how to manage it; invest it; and, save it. Don’t be uncomfortable talking about it. Or shy asking for it.
• That you know that whatever missteps you make in this life, we will always be there beside you, supporting you, and loving you. That you always know that there is no place like home and you will always be welcomed here with warm hearts and loving arms. I hope you know that we will be here when life gives you a thousand reasons to cry, and when it shows you a million reasons to smile. We will be your soft place to land when you need it, and tough love when you need that more.
• That there has never been a day that you have felt unloved or feared that you could ever lose our love. I hope you know that I love you more than you will ever be able to comprehend, at least until you are a mother yourself. That you know that at the end of your journey, you will look back and you will see that you have left your beautiful mark on this place, having made it better, more special, than it was before you arrived… and know that I am here as long as God will grant me the time to watch it all unfold.

And, finally, that you know that you will forever be my sweet, beautiful girl, and that I will forever love and treasure being your mom.

All my love, from my whole heart.

That picture that you see, that’s me. Those words that you see, I did that.

The “show up and be seen” Brene Brown mantra that’s been on repeat in my head came to life this Labor Day weekend. Sure I was riddled with some angst, but I showed up. I showed up and allowed myself to be seen. As I should have guessed, once I did, it didn’t suck.

I showed up with my pace anxieties; with my apprehension about keeping up; with my reluctance to run with runners that intimidated me; and, all while toting around extra weight that has challenged everything about running for me. Still, I f’ing showed up.

Even though I’ve been running for several years, going out to group runs has been hard for me. I do it, but it’s so stinking hard sometimes. I get sucked in because I love running, and I love my running friends. We talk about the races we are training for, compare notes about what training plans we’ve adopted, and we share the running goals we’ve set for ourselves. It’s all pretty great once I convince myself to go, but at some point, after the hellos and hugging, we are going to run. Together. All at the same time. Shorter distances, but faster than I am accustomed to running. That scares my freaking face off. Every. Single. Time. Every run is a risk v. reward exercise. Do I want to risk some discomfort for the reward of the “I just did that shit” feeling after the run?

In the interest of full disclosure, let me be clear – we are talking about group road runs of anywhere between 3 to 6 miles. When I say it, and see it in print, I almost want to punch myself it seems so stupid considering that I have done distances ranging from 5k (3.1 miles) to 100k (62.1 miles). Yeah, it is pretty shameful, but my fear is not distance; its speed. When you go far, especially really far, there is some expectation that your pace is slower. So by all means, distance appeals to me so much more than shorter, faster distances. I won’t flinch at a 20 mile trail run, but I just about crawl into the fetal position and rock back and forth when I think I have to do a “quick road run.” Longer distances minimize the pressure of running with groups because the longer the distance, the less people lined up to do them. Depending on who you hang out with, you can probably grab just about anyone from your friend group and convince them to run a 5k training distance or race with you after zero training. Try that with a marathon or a 30 mile training run. I can just about guarantee it doesn’t turn out the same way. Again, it depends on who makes up your friend group, and the gauge reading on their adventure-seeking barometer.

So while it’s true that I have made some of the best running pals one could ask for; that I’ve landed in the right places, at the right times, with the right runners; it is also true that I’ve been a complete chicken shit at times. I have managed on more occasions than I care to count, to disappear into my fear of not being able to keep up, and convince myself that I have 689 things that out rank a group run so I can avoid what scares me.

Sunday Runday has been one of the group runs I’ve avoided. I’d think going was a great idea, then almost immediately, convince myself why it would be awful. My brain would automatically go to the place of “they’ll have to wait on me” or “someone will feel bad, hang back with me, and screw up their own run.” Basically just bullshit excuses. Pretty stupid since I am really ok with being in the back of the pack and really don’t need anyone to hang back, and more times than not, I am the last runner to come in. That part might have bothered me as a baby runner, but as I’ve put more miles on my feet, that really isn’t the shit part for me anymore. It’s not how I feel coming in last. It’s the story I make up in my head about what others think or feel about waiting on me because I am coming in last. That’s where things get cray-cray for me.

The universe decided to kick my ass in gear and conspired for the topic of Sunday Runday to come up with my friends after our trail run on Saturday. (Trail runs aren’t as pace-intimidating as road runs because of so many variables with trails.) After listening to my friends reassure me that pace was a non-issue, by the time I drove out of the parking lot, I had decided to go to the run the next day. It wouldn’t matter if I was slower than everyone else. It wouldn’t matter if I did intervals. It wouldn’t matter if I was the last runner to come in. Who freaking cares? I was doing it. And besides that, the reward for the run was beer and hanging with people I really like. No downside when you think of it that way, right?

Well not only did I show up, but I was actually early. The early thing seems insignificant unless you know me. I was there and I was ready. I was nervous, but I took off. Admittedly my running with the group was short-lived as they moved farther ahead, but I was doing the group run. I ran intervals just like I’ve trained my body and brain to do. I allowed myself to make peace with how I run. Accepting what works for me. Finding my way to a place of confidence in my running performance. Putting the need to compare myself to other runners to rest. Not only saying it, but truly believing that I am in control of how this journey takes shape.

So, with the help of my friend, Leslie, I made it through my first Sunday Runday! Not only did I run, but I ran faster and with more confidence. It must have been obvious to my new running partner because after pushing me to run faster, she also thought it would be fun to challenge me to some sprints. It was liberating. It was awesome. It was hard in the best way possible. The hard way that reminded me of why I love running. The awesome way that made me appreciate the fantastic friends that I run with, next to, and behind.