Written March 2, 2021
Track & Tacos... It’s Tuesday!
Boom, gun goes off. My legs are ready, they have trained for weeks and at age 16, that’s all it takes for the muscles to become optimal in response to the training. The track was black and the first corner was around the high jump area. It wasn’t until I learned about centrifugal force in college that I understood how the universe prefers that lean in on the corners. In high school I loved those corners, that’s when I’d pour out just a little more than the surrounding girls, grabbing at whatever gain I could for the race at hand, 800m, 1600m, 3200m... more corners gave more opportunity. The corners were playful, that’s were the game presented for me. It was the kind of gambling that fed my passion. Do I have enough? Guess I will find out. I ran track for the corners.
To this day, over 30 years later, every time I step onto a track for a speed workout, I think of leaning in on the corners and the power felt in my legs and my heart, that assist from the Universe to propel me into what is ahead. It is a feeling I love.
Power. Play. Sweat. Running. Risk. Show up or go home time.
For me, track also has a bittersweet after taste. I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes about a month into my junior year track season. As a competitive runner, looking to be competitive in college, my junior year season counted, more than any other. I had trained all winter for this season. Hours and hours of snow running, gym workouts for strength, and workout journals recorded. I loved running and I loved being good at running. I was blessed with a phenomenal track & cross country program at my high school.
My diagnosis took away my junior year track season.
My diagnosis took away my opportunity to run for a good program in college.
My diagnosis took away a dream.
Resilience(n): ability to mentally or emotionally cope with a crisis or to return to pre-crisis status quickly.
At 17, after my diagnosis, I adapted to my new circumstance.
At 48, over 30 years after my diagnosis, I’m reconciling.
Each time I step foot on a track I am reminded, at 16, of that amazing feeling on those corners, the wins, the PRs.
Each time I step foot on a track I am reminded, at 17, of the lasts, the drop outs and the non-starts. That feeling of getting to the edge of exertion and having to question if the discomfort was blood sugars and if I kept on would I pass out. My corners now contained distractions, they lacked focused, I no longer could risk not paying attention, fully, to how my body was responding to the effort, the energy of competition. The gift of my passion, to loose myself in my running, well it now felt crowded. There was never a return to pre-crisis for me.
It is easy to read this and not feel my sense of loss at a critical time in my development as a teenager. I have been highly blessed in my adaption, driven by passion of what is important to me. I have lived a very full life and though my diagnosis brought loss, diabetes has not. I adapted and learned, I figured it fucking out. I didn’t say easy. I said I figured it out. How to live, fully, with my circumstance. As a health coach, I am blessed to use my experience and knowledge to help others as they experience the discomfort of adapting. Whether it’s in motherhood, divorce, parenting, weight gain, cancer diagnosis, career questioning or COVID, I am there, along side my clients, to bring their desires, new or old, into their reality.
This morning as my running group concluded our workout I saw a couple high school athletes trickle onto the track. I thought of all the track athletes in their junior year, not getting a sophomore season, the loss.
As I finished my final lap this morning, no bitterness was on my tongue. I was shoulder aligned with a running bestie. I convinced her we should add in 1 more “extra” lap after completing the workout.
Now that is a friend people.
When a girlfriend, in the 6am hour, who was woke up at 2:30am by her red-haired high energy Little, to recognize my desire for 1 more lap and agree to accompany. That’s love right there!
As we pushed through our final corner of the morning, breathing hard, tired muscles, there she stood, at the 300m line. A high school girl, prepping for her before virtual school track workout. She had a blond pony, my guess is she is adapting.
Please be aware, resilience unfolds after we adapt. It’s a process and well, just love on these kids as much as you can.
Thirty years later, my corners are feeling fun again... game on.
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