A couple weeks ago, my friend Amy Marxkors, wrote a piece about how you can’t run and cry at the same time.  I assure you, this is correct.  I speak from personal experience.  Personal experience as recently as this afternoon.

I’ve been having a rough week.  So rough in fact that when I met Faith for coffee this morning prior to opening the store, it didn’t take more than a minute or so after her walking in, and I was dissolved in tears in the front window of Starbucks as I shared my woes with my friend.

I managed to pull myself together eventually and put on my happy pants while I was at work, but as soon as the clock hit 2pm, I knew I needed to get my run on.  I needed to find me some hills.  Off to Babler I went for a quick 4 miles before I had to pick the kids up from school.  As I cruised down 109 towards one of my favorite running spots, the tears began to cruise down my face all over again.  I could hear Faith’s words from this morning ringing in my ears, “Lindsey, I know it’s hard, but you are so brave.”  I pulled into my usual parking spot by the statue, changed my shoes, threw on my visor and set out on my usual “bad day route” with mascara still streaking my face.  It didn’t take more than a step or two for me to figure out that crying was just not in the cards if I wanted to get this run in.

I’m sure curiosity is peaked…why had Rambling Runner Girl turned into Crying Runner Girl?  Well, I’ll tell you.  But first I have to ask the question, why is it so hard to say the word “No”?  It’s one of the first words we learn to say, right after Da, Ma, ball, dog and car. Sometimes even before some of those.  And toddlers use “No” more than any other word in their rapidly growing vocabulary.  Actually, so do some adults who act like toddlers.  “No” is universal in how many different languages?  And even cultures that use a different word for “No”, still clearly understand what it means.  We also have many different gestures to indicate “No”, some more appropriate than others.  But at what point, did it become so difficult for me to say No?

I’m a pleaser.  I like to make other people happy.  And I deeply take to heart other people’s feeling when I’m making a decision.  Especially when those people are my children.  But as a parent, sometimes it’s necessary to say “No” to things they want, or that other people want for them, because we have their best interest in mind.  We can’t please everyone all the time, so we really just have to do the best we can, to make the decision that we can live with at the end of the day.

A few weeks ago I was asked to make a decision about something regarding my kids.  I wrestled with it. I struggled.  I did my research.  I talked through it with the people closest to me.  Ultimately, I knew what my answer needed to be, but I knew it was going to be hard to say it.  Last night, I said it.  I exercised my right to say no.

This morning, I needed to hear Faith’s words, because I was doubting myself.  I didn’t feel brave.  But as she reminded me, I’m not the same person she met 2 years ago.  Now, I am brave.  Because to me being brave isn’t about being fearless.  Being brave means standing up to adversity and intimidation with conviction and fortitude.  Being brave means getting back up when I fall down.  Being brave means saying what I need to say whether I say it in a whisper or a shout or even if my voice is shaking.  I continued to let all of this sink into me as I embraced the rolling hills of Babler this afternoon.

By the end of my run, I noticed the graceful way my shadow seemed to glide across the asphalt, such smooth movements, almost like I was flying. It was actually kind of beautiful to watch.  It’s funny how I was working so hard to put one foot in front of the other, sweating, struggling, pushing myself to go harder but from a totally different perspective my counter-part appeared to be going along with such ease.  So there we were, two of me.  Which one was real?  Both actually.

It’s all a matter of perspective.  Sometimes we just need to step back and look at ourselves from another angle, because sometimes we see ourselves a little too closely.  So I will go on chasing my own shadow and I’ll try to remember that the “me” that is fighting to keep going is the same “me” that is graceful and courageous and strong.

Does this shadow make my butt look big?