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#iwillwhatiwant
Like with running those 10km, I've taken my time in writing this post. So many meaningful moments happened that weekend that I just had to take a step back and digest them. So, as my friend Jamie said, name each kilometer you run: a meaningful moment for every kilometer completed. 1km - Cruel but optimistic start up a very steep hill. Name: 2016, what a year. I started off this year much like this race, optimistically but thinking to myself how steep the hill was and wondering whether it would be the only one. It wasn't. Becoming a mother was a steep hill to climb, suddenly and quickly, right from the start. I tried to pace myself and take my time to learn, to climb. But knowing this was just the beginning scared me. What if I can't do it? What if I had bitten off more than I could chew? 2km - Road starting to level out, the fresh air in my lungs, music in my ears. Name: Lucca, my boy. After that tough first climb, things started making sense. My focus shifted from how hard the journey would be to how to make sure I'd cross the finish line. He is the reason I will always get there. He is my greatest challenge and treasure. He is worth every step, every effort, every sacrifice, every hill. I finished that second kilometer not even remembering how hard that first hill was. 3km - It's clear that it's all hills in this run. I put my headphones in, take another deep breath, and find a comfortable pace. Name: My body, it remembered stronger times. Yes, I used to be stronger, younger and had more time to dedicate to meeting personal physical goals. But this run was not to prove whether I was still as strong as I used to be. I'm not. Neither was it a mid-life crisis moment to make me not feel 'old'. Fuck that. I'm 35 and I love who I am. I admire the courage it took for me to go on this journey in the first place. I saw myself through the eyes of my younger self, the one who thought she would never have kids or run past one kilometer. This run was about continuing on this journey and allowing myself to do so. Yes, I used to be stronger, younger. And my body was remembering. 4km - A downhill! Do I run or do I let it be? Name: Spark to flame. In this year of ups and downs, I've found solace in the Hamilton Broadway Musical soundtrack. Random, I know. I'm not American, nor have I ever identified as one. But they say music, like food, is the one thing that can bring cultures together. Lin Manuel Miranda's genius storytelling about how Alexander Hamilton, an immigrant with the odds stacked against him, was hugely responsible for empowering a country to rise up against oppression; is a message of resiliency that is important, more so now than ever before, for anyone to hear. Anyway, as I was making my 10km music playlist, I made sure to include some of my favorite tracks from the Hamilton soundtrack, as well as some Zumba favorites. I named my playlist 'Spark to Flame' hoping that it would do just that. I figured that listening to the lyrics and rhythms of music that inspires and empowers, would send the message to my body to keep moving. It was at this kilometer that my mind took over and I knew, even this early on in the run, that I would not only finish the 10km but I would do so with a smile on my face. 5km - Slight incline, beautiful view, half way point.
Name: Take a moment. I hadn't really given the location what it deserved. Clear Water Bay in Hong Kong is gorgeous. The golf course where we ran is no doubt reserved for the elite. The road was impeccable, no bougainvillea out of place, no blade of grass too long. Coming up the incline, the sunbeams peaking from the clouds and the view of the bay with rocky mountains protruding from the waters... I had to take a moment and let it all in. Just like the high I get after a job well done, or when all I can do is stare at my baby boy doing the most mundane thing in the world. Taking those moments in are really the pieces of the happiness puzzle. 6km - The sought-after running high. Name: Dance, dance, dance. As my Zumba/Hamilton playlist blasted in my ears, I started to reminisce on how much I love dancing. When I started my running journey and this blog, I had been doing Zumba religiously. Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Sin falta. Without fail. It was transformative and fun, and I loved it. I got to dance like no one was watching and get super fit in the process. As I ran to the merengue, salsa, reggueton and cumbia beats; I realized how much I want to dance again... 7km - Just a couple of more hills, but a strong mindset. Name: My C-Section. Oy. Yes. This was when I was reminded yet another reason why this year has been tough to get back on the fitness horse. (Almost) a year ago, I made the decision to have a planned c-section. After weighing the pros and cons, going online (eek) and getting the perspectives of (hundreds of, at times, very opinionated) mothers, doctors, doulas, nurses and everyone ever involved in the baby birthing business; I concluded that I was comfortable with my decision. I knew what I was signing up for in terms of recovery time. Long. Painful. Blah blah blah. And sure, what I researched has been for the most part true. But I've been gently and patiently getting my body ready for a new challenge, so I really hadn't thought much of it. Until then. As I was going up one of the last hills, my mouth had gotten a bit dry and I coughed. Suddenly, there it was. A burning sensation on my c-section scar. It felt like it had felt when the wound was new and still healing. I slowed down my pace to a walk, put my hand over my scar... I decided to slow down my pace after that, reminded myself to continue to be gentle and patient. My mind could do more but my body was starting to remind me of the decision I had made a little over 11 months back. 8km - A surprise mini-loop on a very steep hill. Name: Life. Life is full of unexpected loops and setbacks, steep hills that come out of nowhere that you have no choice but to run up and keep going. This loop was such a metaphor for 2016... It was ironically comical. 9km - The home stretch. Name: Losing a friend. The pain of loss is such a complex emotion, one that is feared by those who haven't felt it and impossible to explain by those who have. As I ran that last kilometer, for a moment I saw myself through the eyes of someone who always believed in me and saw in me things I could not. Crossing that finish line seemed such an improbable goal to me. In fact, I tend to make a big deal of me crossing finish lines and how unlikely my success will be. But that last bunch of meters, I saw what she saw in me: nothing but finish lines. Nothing but accomplishments. Nothing but challenges met, battles won, goals achieved. In her eyes, I could do anything, and I was silly to think otherwise. And I missed her, my friend whom I have lost, so much. It hurt with a pain that I've become all too familiar with... but impossible to explain. 10km - The finish line. Name: This is 35. Painful joints. Searing scar. Smile on my face. This is 35. Hungry. Thirsty. Tired. Cold. This is 35. Music still blasting. Feet still moving. Spark turned to flame. This. Is. 35.
1 Comment
Liz
12/8/2016 08:29:00 pm
beautiful. ❤️ Poignantly honest, creative, wise.
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Ceci Gomez-GalvezOriginally from Guatemala, I've been living overseas for 11 years (Italy, China). I'm a runner who learns at every step. |