here comes that sun again

Every once in awhile I let my total fear of success consume me and I stay paralyzed in my comfortable, naive state.

And other times I kick my fear in its proverbial balls and dive headfirst into something that I really haven't thought about adequately.

I haven't decided which is a better way to live. Yet. Maybe I'll learn the hard way.

I bit the bullet and earned a spot on the ConU track & cross-country running team.

Me. A varsity athlete. It's weird to think about it.

I was pretty psyched about it earlier today when I heard back from the coach, but the more I thought about it all day, the more I became consumed with the thought of oh god, what have I done?

I know I can run. I know I can run for long distances. But despite this, I do not consider myself a runner nor any form of athlete.

And the more I contemplate it, the more I am overhwlemed with the feeling of dread that accompanies a person who is now in way over their head.

I am not a fast runner. And now I'm going to be running races. After thoroughly breaking down my current running workout with the coach, he reassured me that I was at the perfect fitness level to start training with the team, and that they'd help me build my speed up.

But still. Pace and intervals and exhausting timed runs Mondays and Wednesdays. 15km jogs through downtown Tuesdays and Thursdays. What if the jog is too fast? What if I can't keep up?

Then again, that's the whole point. The reason I joined the team was to challenge myself in the realm of running. Running was becoming monotonous, boring, and it never felt like I was working very hard.

I fully expect to be kneeled over, barely conscious, hurling into a grabage bin at the end of every workout with the team next week. And I'm a rare breed, because that thought appeals to me.

People are afraid to push their limits anymore. You're always hearing "go easy" or "don't push yourself." Why not? If you push your body, it will respond. What's the worst that can happen? You push so hard that you're physically sick at the end of the race? Okay, there's a garbage bin and a bottle of soothing Gatorade waiting for you. The pain will last a maximum of ten minutes. You run so hard that you collapse and pass out at the end? Okay--your coach will get you to come 'round again.

People are just afraid of pain, and in a way, afraid of their own success.

So I'm going to give it a shot. And a week from now, maybe I'll decide I suck and hang up my running shoes forever.

Or maybe I'll discover another small piece of myself.