There are so many days that I am so content with who I am...with who I've become...not by my own strength...but through God and through the circumstances I have gone through in my life. I look back and I know that I'm stronger because A, B, and C all happened-even though they were so hard at the time! I know that trials help develop perserverance and I really do appreciate them eventually.
But there are so many times that I just can't be happy with what I've accomplished. And this weekend is one of those times. As of a year ago, I couldn't run a 1/2 mile without literally feeling like I was going to die. That was about 7 minutes of running. I couldn't do it. I remember going to the gym and "working up" to running a mile...it was awesome. So fast foward a year...I have run an 8K (4.97 miles) in 30 degree weather and snowing...and just yesterday I ran a 10K (6.2 miles) in 80+ weather, 80% humidity. I finished...and I'm not dead right now! :) My neck hurts (I pulled something somehow) and my ankle hurts (there were CRAZY steep hills) but I did it!
But, am I really proud of myself? No, not really. Because I ran much slower than I wanted to, I finished about 10 minutes longer than I was hoping for, and because I was 5th from last. Why am I so down on myself? Why can't I be happy about this accomplishment? It's huge. I'm so much stronger, I'm thinner (15 lbs since last year!), and I took on something that has always been my nemisis--AND I DID IT. But, as I bawled in Dan's arms last night I realized that this is me. I've always been a perfectionist. When I used to score 100s at All County/State tryouts I would cry over stuff I could have done better. It would push me, it would teach me, and I realized...that's just who I am.