Where do I begin?
Starting a blog is something I have thought of for quite a while.
However, writing is something I am terrible at, and sharing my thoughts
and feelings are things that terrify me. These are two key ingredients to
writing a blog, right? But I think they're also the reasons I want to do
it. I don't want to be afraid of myself anymore. I don't want to
keep my words for myself; I want to let them out. This is my attempt to
do so.
Ok here's the cliff note's
version of my life. My parent's divorced when I was 3. Both parents
remarried around the time I was 7. My dad married my step mom who had two
boys. Yay, stepbrothers. They moved to RI. We moved to NH.
My mom and the jerk she married adopted my brother when I was 14.
My mom got divorced again when my brother was 3. My childhood was
spent bouncing around like a pinball. I didn't know where I belonged.
I did gymnastics for 15 years. I played soccer, and softball in
high school. I had amazing friends. I could handle this. Time
for college. Why did everyone know what they wanted to do...but me?
I went. I was miserable. I became depressed. I had an
eating disorder. Good times. I stopped going to college. I
went to therapy. I don't think it helped much. I got a job. I
moved to Boston. I tried to figure out my life. I moved back home
to NH. I started running. Still not a clue. I attempted to go
back to school. I didn't care. I was confused. I ran some
more. I liked running. I went back to school again. I decided
I wanted to be a nurse. I loved it. I kept running. I met a
boy. I graduated and got a job. I was meant to do this. I love being a nurse. I love running. I love
life. Wait...what? Did I really just say that? Yeah, I think
I did. I think I really mean it too. Holy crap.
There are too many days
that I still don't like what I see in the mirror. I hate that. It's
a battle that I continue to fight. But I am starting to appreciate and
enjoy who I am as a person. That's something I never thought I would be
able to say. What changed? I'm not exactly sure I can pinpoint it.
It's probably a combination of many factors. Of the many, my career is
one of them. Running is another.
Over the past 6 years my
love for running has grown tremendously. I ran a little when I was
younger. I ran down the vault runway in gymnastics. I ran across
the soccer field. I ran around the bases. I never ran any kind of
long distance and I didn't want to. In 2007, a few of my friends were
training to run a marathon. They had run one before and their stories and
triumphs intrigued me. Before
signing up I ran a couple of longer runs to make sure my body could handle
it. The longest run I had done prior to this was probably 7 miles. I decided to give it a shot and I registered for the
Manchester Marathon in NH. I almost
couldn’t believe it, but I was excited.
I didn’t have any expectations except to finish. I did finish, 4hrs and 40min after I
started. Certainly not a time to
write home about, but I finished.
I was hooked.
Since then, I have ran 5
half marathons. My first half I
finished in 2:14:xx. My PR is now
is 1:55:xx. I did not race at all
last year because I was busy trying to graduate from nursing school and life in
general got in the way. However,
over the past 6 months or so, my love for running has continued to grow. Running gives me hope and confidence
and a feeling that I don’t get from anything else. So far this year I have signed up for my first 10k on April 7, a
half marathon on May 26 and a marathon on October 13. I am so excited to try to get stronger and faster and cross
each one of those finish lines. I have recently been inspired by so many in this sport and for that I am truly grateful.
This is my attempt to be happy with myself. To believe I am good enough. This is my story.
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