1000 Word Excerpt

By mile 9, it was obvious that I had lost my ever loving mind, held captive and attacked by the level of blurriness that was in my peripheral view; and by mile 11, I was hobbling so that even the race-walkers were out walking me!

Mile 13 presented some different dynamics. The Law Enforcement Officers, fearing for my safety, escorted me onto the curb. No more hoopla, no more sticky goo, and no more well-wishers chanting, Rah, rah, rah you can do it.

Staring in front of me as far as I could, I saw nothing. Only bleakness, stood between me, and my goal of finishing the 26.7-mile race. I looked behind me, hoping that one of my fellow marathoners was somewhere within eyesightanywhere.

To my amazement at mile 14, I found myself completely and devastatingly alone. Panic set in. The encouragement of the bystanders was no more. It was clear that I was in trouble. The buzz and excitement of the crowd had reached a hushed harmony, and in its place was the quiet desperation of my own mind. After a few moments of careful scrutiny, it became clear that I was in last place!

Embarrassment rushed over me. The fear that had made its way up to my throat was strangling. I stood frozen, locked in the vices of fear and shame. Nothing could have prepared me for the transformation that running in this race would create in my life. I didnt know at the time that this race would turn out to be about preparation and journey into stillness, or that it was the Universes way of gently coercing me into honoring my own existence. No one could have given me the information that I needed to retrieve the truth of my reality. In another time and space, I would have pooh-poohed the concept that I was afraid. It was in that moment, when I acutely experienced the fear of being alone and having the incapacity to resonate in the pulse of the moment; it was here that I embraced a new awareness. I begin having inner dialog with myself, and if that wasnt enough, I begin answering myself too.

I realized that there is not much difference between me, and those folks who carry on two to three obnoxious conversations with themselves, those folks whom many would deem a little off; talking to no one in particular and every one at the same time. The striking difference between them and me is that they conduct their chatter out loud, sharing their psychosis for the world to hear, sometimes, even showcasing their lunacy to outsiders through shouting matches and personal disclosure, whereas I am protective of my thoughts. I conduct my internal chatter in secret, thank you very much.

As you can imagine, my words were coming as rapidly as my thoughts. The dialog in my head was clear,

Why do you fear? I asked. I heard myself answer, Everyone can see that you are last. Everyone is judging you. All of your friends will laugh and say, Girl, I told you that course would be too difficult to complete.

I could hear the voice of the doubting Thomas I had been dating, People prepare for years to finish marathons. What makes you think youll do it?

There was a clear and calm answer: You can either listen to all of that garbage, quit at mile 14, or make up your mind to finish this race, no matter what anyone else may think of you. It was as if the earth opened up and poured out its soul to me.

Startled and looking around for the originator of these words, my legs were wobbly and I felt feint. I allowed the strength of the words to carry me. For the first time in my life, it hit me: I had unconsciously made the opinions, attitudes, and beliefs of others more valuable than my own.

I recognized that the limiting beliefs of others were not the truths from which I chose to navigate in the world. Their limiting beliefs were a part of their realitynot mine. I also saw how, in a state of panic, I had grasped onto their words, wearing them like a second skin.

As sure as day is light and dark is night, had I run this race with a partner, the slightest provocation would have caused me to quit. My fear of what other peoples perceptions were about my running in last place would have colored my realityand the most hurtful part of it all was the realization that I had been doing that all of my life.

Why dont you just quit? Came that same fearful voice again. What made you think you could pull this off? Youre in last place. Who do you think you are, anyway?

On and on the chatter went, doubting, questioning, and fearing, until I was too exhausted emotionally, physically, and spiritually to do anything other than what I did next. I heard somewhere once, that when you dont know what to do, do nothing. So, my nothing was grounding myself and simply placing one foot in front of the other.

I connected to my hidden beliefs. The truth was, I was frustrated. I felt ripped off, disconnected, embarrassed, and wondered how I had become a victim to such limited thinking. Somewhere along the way, I had been told, or told myself, that success meant that my appearance and behaviors must correspond with what society teaches. I had been living a lie; a lie, which stated that I had to look and act like others or I was a failure.

If that were my truth, then I had become enslaved by someone elses perceptions of reality. That thought made my head spin and bound me to the side of the road, caught up in mile 15, disillusioned, distressed, and in tears.