Inspiration

Look around at the people in your life. Find ones that inspire you!

There are always people who do something better than you.

There are always people who do something worse than you.

A universal truth.

Don’t be jealous of those who excel at something you would like to do. Waste of energy. Instead, use them.

Use them as an example to inspire you, to light your way. To show you opportunity. To show you that, yes, yes you fucking can. Stay in your lane, with our own goals and dreams and hopes and aspirations. Look to them for your possibility.

This isn’t about what you eat (although it is.) This isn’t about how much you exercise (although it helps.) This isn’t about your motivation (although you need this.)

This is about finding your tribe.

I talked about my girls, my coffee klatsch. They are part of it. So are the posters to various Facebook WW groups which I read for advice. And the podcasts I listen to in order to feed my head. And my friend from 30 years ago whose runs I follow on Instagram. And the Instagram accounts of people I never met, but am inspired by their pictures.

Inspiration is everywhere, if we just look for it.

There were two people in my life that I looked at as my rabbit, the one the Greyhound chases, yet never catches. Not as competition, they will always have the edge over me. They are faster, more able, more talented. And that’s ok.

One of my best friends, Stacy, is married to the definition of Type A personality. John owns his own business, works hard and plays harder. He loves his family, the NY Rangers, the NY Mets and the band Rush. He is a talented musician that I have had the pleasure of listening to, from his sax playing as part of a friend’s wedding band to jamming with his bandmates of decades past. He gets along well with my husband, and our kids are around the same age, so this makes it easy for us to vacation together over the past 20 years. He is someone whose opinion I respect.

John used to be overweight, and we both had a special place in our hearts for any pastry located within the mountainous breakfast buffets we encountered on our travels. Neither of us have met a croissant we didn’t like.

One day, he started to exercise. Started on the elliptical, did some free weights for about a year, then he began to run.

He ran for a year, completing two half marathons in the process. By this time, he had dropped 63 pounds. He decided to run a marathon on May 3, 2015, at the age of 47.

By the time he was 51, he completed 14 marathons.

Holy shit.

He channeled that intensity, that drive, that ultra-focus, possessed by few of us, into a globe-trotting collection of medals and PRs. He did this when most people I know are sitting on the couch, watching TV, looking towards retirement.

That’s why I am inspired by him. Who wouldn’t be?

Now, I have no desire to run a marathon. I honestly do not enjoy running. I appreciate the calorie burn. I like the feeling I have after a run, after I completed something I thought I couldn’t do. I also know that growth is only possible by reaching outside of my comfort zone.

So I signed up for a half marathon in March 2020.

Why would I do this? WTF is wrong with me? There is no way I can do this. When I write about my prior running experience you will see why I say this.

I signed up because my childhood friend Tish did. And she thinks I can do it also.

Who am I to doubt her?

Tish and I grew up across the street from each other. We know each other for 41 years. It is unbelievable to even type that. She is as close to a sister as I will ever be lucky to have. When someone knows your childhood, it is a special type of friendship, especially when there were parts you would prefer to forget. We have been through dating, weddings, birthdays, childbirth, divorce, holidays, tragedy, joy, and everything in between. The stuff of life.

How does one sum up decades of true friendship?

I know that if I needed someone at 3 in the morning, she is at the top of my list. She is that friend.

Tish can run. She doesn’t think she is fast, but she doubts herself. I do not ever doubt her. She is strong and focused. If she wants something, she will figure out how to get it. She stands on her own two feet, and is fiercely unapologetic. She is brave. She is loyal. And she is fast.

She also believes I can run, more than I believe it. We have completed 3 races together (more on this in another post) and she had signed up for a half marathon in Philly, with the promise of a brisket and broccoli rabe sandwich when she finished. I hesitated. I hemmed. I hawed. I heard “You can’t do this” over and over and over.

Finally, I bit the bullet and paid the registration fee and booked a hotel.

My husband said to me, “Well if you don’t make it, that’s ok.”

What? What was he talking about? I did not even consider this as an option. Not make it? Not make the finish line? Lose out on my medal? Or my banana? (Please note: the banana is literal, not a euphemism.) 

I didn’t even realize that not finishing is an option.

That’s because one of my fears is fear of failure. Failure is not on my radar. I’m a perfectionist. I will figure this out. I will train. I will face my fears. And I will fucking do it.

Thank you, my friends, for the inspiration.

I guess I am doing this thing.