Dear Life,....Challenge Accepted
Soooo, I'm training for a marathon this fall. Not especially big news. LOTS of people run marathons. This will be my first, however.
At age 47.
(I'm pausing to allow you the proper amount of time to ooooo, and ahhhh.) ;)
What's that? It's cool, but not THAT impressive, Victoria? *shrugs* Yeah, okay, okay,...I know that Oprah did her first marathon at age 50, but, like,...that's OPRAH and I'm me and I'm sorry, but running my first marathon at 47 feels like something I should get a damn medal for.
What's that? I will get a medal? They give those out at the end of the race to everybody who finishes?
REALLY?!!!!!
Ah. Well then, I'm glad to see that my suggestion found it's way from the suggestion box into the hands of the right decision makers. My work here is complete.
Except for the miles, and miles, and miiiiiles of training left to do. And of course the race to run. And that medal to collect. I hope it's nice and big and blingy. I plan to wear it for many days (weeks, months) afterward.
Still, my point in this blog is not that I'm looking forward to the end of all this training and that big blingy medal. The point I want to make is that I'm so happy that at 47 I'm still setting difficult challenges for myself. It feels good to struggle. In fact, it feels like a bucket of awesome.
Not too long ago I came across the profile of someone I'd gone to high school with. This woman had been a total rockstar on our track team, and I was curious to see if she'd kept up with her running. She'd been such a gorgeous runner back then; someone you'd just love to watch round the track with her smooth, graceful stride. When she ran it seemed so effortless; she was poetry in motion. And while she wasn't exactly my friend in high school, (she was one of the cool beautiful people and I spent my lunches alone with a bologna sandwich in the girls' locker room) I will admit that the memory of her always provided me with a bit of inspiration simply because I'd seen her face far more talented runners with finishing times much better than hers and in race after race I'd watched her fight for every single inch, never yielding while she clawed her way to that first or very-close second place finish. That kind of courage is an incredible thing to witness at 17, or any age really.
So, when I came across a "where are they now" section of my alumni page, I couldn't resist looking her up. Now, I will admit that, when I first saw her profile, I didn't even recognize her. She looked nothing like her former self. Instead, she looked like someone who, at least five or ten years ago, had totally given up.
Granted, I have no idea what struggles she might've faced in her life that would take such a toll - I mean, obviously something had - but in that moment that I was playing snoop dog, all I could think was how grateful I am that life has presented me throughout the years with exactly enough hardship and strife to not level me. To not leave me feeling resigned. Placated. Passionless. Defeated.
Admittedly, I've been through some tough spots. I left home at 18 to put myself through college with absolutely no monetary or emotional support from my parents. My first relationship in college left me with a black eye and bruised ribs. In my early twenties I was once robbed of all of my money and lived off saltine crackers for over a week. In my late twenties I once found myself homeless and lived out of my car for a few weeks. Back then I often found myself down to only a roll of quarters and three days to payday. In my thirties I lost four jobs in a row and had been unemployed for over four months when, in desperation, I wrote my first novel. I've been utterly heartbroken numerous times. And, there was more than one year where I was totally alone on Christmas...and New Year's. In other words, I've faced times when I had no prospects, no family, no friends, and no real resources.
But I've never been completely broken. I've never stopped fighting. That scrappy, snarky side of my personality has never said, "Ok. I quit." And while I often get into trouble for said, scrappy snarky side, I will say that I wouldn't trade my feisty tenacious nature for all the tea in China. Or India. Or China and India combined.
Instead, each and every time I've been kicked in the gut by life, I've somehow managed to figure it out, fight my way out of the abyss and look forward to something better. All that training has come in handy, because now I'm looking at running 26.2 miles this coming October with a bucket load of enthusiasm and gusto. And I don't want to just finish the race, I want to personally crush it. I'm aiming for a sub-four-hour finish. In other words, I'm SO excited for race day, but make no mistake I'm not naive; I've already been on one twenty-miler which left me weepy and frustrated and on the couch for the rest of the day. And yet, at no point on that run, (which I will admit was ridiculously challenging given the crazy hilly course I'd assigned myself and the lack of water I'd taken along) was I ever thinking about pulling out of the longer run come October. Instead, when I got to the end, and (literally) limped my way back to the car dizzy, disoriented, and dehydrated all I could think was, "Only six-point-two miles more. I can totally do that!"
So, it may not come as a surprise that, because I'm not convinced running that far is quite challenging enough for this three-years-younger-than-Oprah writer/runner, I've now ADDED a challenge for myself to finish three manuscripts in three months. Come October 19th I want to have completed an M. J., an Abby, and my next YA thriller. Now THAT'S a challenge I can really sink my teeth into! :)
So far, I'm doing okay. I turned in M. J. to my editor a little over a week ago, and I have three weeks left to finish the next Abby in order to stay on track. I'm honestly more nervous about the writing than the running. But how awesome it is to feel that slight sense of panic. That question about whether or not I can pull it all off. That drive to just get it done or go down fighting, clawing my way around the track, fighting for every single inch, every single word, every completed page. It makes me want to raise my sword arm and yell, "Into the breach!!!" :)
Most importantly, however, how fortunate I am to find that at age 47, my life isn't getting any easier, or any less challenging. Instead, it's just starting to get really, really good. :)
So, to all those who may be struggling right now and facing a bucket full of lemons, I say, "Join me, fellow scrappy underdogs! Pick up your lemons and remember this one thing: Lemons make awesome grenades! INTO THE BREACH!!!!!
:)
Hugs,
V
At age 47.
(I'm pausing to allow you the proper amount of time to ooooo, and ahhhh.) ;)
What's that? It's cool, but not THAT impressive, Victoria? *shrugs* Yeah, okay, okay,...I know that Oprah did her first marathon at age 50, but, like,...that's OPRAH and I'm me and I'm sorry, but running my first marathon at 47 feels like something I should get a damn medal for.
What's that? I will get a medal? They give those out at the end of the race to everybody who finishes?
REALLY?!!!!!
Ah. Well then, I'm glad to see that my suggestion found it's way from the suggestion box into the hands of the right decision makers. My work here is complete.
Except for the miles, and miles, and miiiiiles of training left to do. And of course the race to run. And that medal to collect. I hope it's nice and big and blingy. I plan to wear it for many days (weeks, months) afterward.
Still, my point in this blog is not that I'm looking forward to the end of all this training and that big blingy medal. The point I want to make is that I'm so happy that at 47 I'm still setting difficult challenges for myself. It feels good to struggle. In fact, it feels like a bucket of awesome.
Not too long ago I came across the profile of someone I'd gone to high school with. This woman had been a total rockstar on our track team, and I was curious to see if she'd kept up with her running. She'd been such a gorgeous runner back then; someone you'd just love to watch round the track with her smooth, graceful stride. When she ran it seemed so effortless; she was poetry in motion. And while she wasn't exactly my friend in high school, (she was one of the cool beautiful people and I spent my lunches alone with a bologna sandwich in the girls' locker room) I will admit that the memory of her always provided me with a bit of inspiration simply because I'd seen her face far more talented runners with finishing times much better than hers and in race after race I'd watched her fight for every single inch, never yielding while she clawed her way to that first or very-close second place finish. That kind of courage is an incredible thing to witness at 17, or any age really.
So, when I came across a "where are they now" section of my alumni page, I couldn't resist looking her up. Now, I will admit that, when I first saw her profile, I didn't even recognize her. She looked nothing like her former self. Instead, she looked like someone who, at least five or ten years ago, had totally given up.
Granted, I have no idea what struggles she might've faced in her life that would take such a toll - I mean, obviously something had - but in that moment that I was playing snoop dog, all I could think was how grateful I am that life has presented me throughout the years with exactly enough hardship and strife to not level me. To not leave me feeling resigned. Placated. Passionless. Defeated.
Admittedly, I've been through some tough spots. I left home at 18 to put myself through college with absolutely no monetary or emotional support from my parents. My first relationship in college left me with a black eye and bruised ribs. In my early twenties I was once robbed of all of my money and lived off saltine crackers for over a week. In my late twenties I once found myself homeless and lived out of my car for a few weeks. Back then I often found myself down to only a roll of quarters and three days to payday. In my thirties I lost four jobs in a row and had been unemployed for over four months when, in desperation, I wrote my first novel. I've been utterly heartbroken numerous times. And, there was more than one year where I was totally alone on Christmas...and New Year's. In other words, I've faced times when I had no prospects, no family, no friends, and no real resources.
But I've never been completely broken. I've never stopped fighting. That scrappy, snarky side of my personality has never said, "Ok. I quit." And while I often get into trouble for said, scrappy snarky side, I will say that I wouldn't trade my feisty tenacious nature for all the tea in China. Or India. Or China and India combined.
Instead, each and every time I've been kicked in the gut by life, I've somehow managed to figure it out, fight my way out of the abyss and look forward to something better. All that training has come in handy, because now I'm looking at running 26.2 miles this coming October with a bucket load of enthusiasm and gusto. And I don't want to just finish the race, I want to personally crush it. I'm aiming for a sub-four-hour finish. In other words, I'm SO excited for race day, but make no mistake I'm not naive; I've already been on one twenty-miler which left me weepy and frustrated and on the couch for the rest of the day. And yet, at no point on that run, (which I will admit was ridiculously challenging given the crazy hilly course I'd assigned myself and the lack of water I'd taken along) was I ever thinking about pulling out of the longer run come October. Instead, when I got to the end, and (literally) limped my way back to the car dizzy, disoriented, and dehydrated all I could think was, "Only six-point-two miles more. I can totally do that!"
So, it may not come as a surprise that, because I'm not convinced running that far is quite challenging enough for this three-years-younger-than-Oprah writer/runner, I've now ADDED a challenge for myself to finish three manuscripts in three months. Come October 19th I want to have completed an M. J., an Abby, and my next YA thriller. Now THAT'S a challenge I can really sink my teeth into! :)
So far, I'm doing okay. I turned in M. J. to my editor a little over a week ago, and I have three weeks left to finish the next Abby in order to stay on track. I'm honestly more nervous about the writing than the running. But how awesome it is to feel that slight sense of panic. That question about whether or not I can pull it all off. That drive to just get it done or go down fighting, clawing my way around the track, fighting for every single inch, every single word, every completed page. It makes me want to raise my sword arm and yell, "Into the breach!!!" :)
Most importantly, however, how fortunate I am to find that at age 47, my life isn't getting any easier, or any less challenging. Instead, it's just starting to get really, really good. :)
So, to all those who may be struggling right now and facing a bucket full of lemons, I say, "Join me, fellow scrappy underdogs! Pick up your lemons and remember this one thing: Lemons make awesome grenades! INTO THE BREACH!!!!!
:)
Hugs,
V
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Kathy wrote: "This is one of the many reasons I love reading your books... they make me laugh and your characters never give up on challenges either. Gives the rest of us hope to keep chugging along and setting..."Oooo, Kathy! You go, girl!!!!! And on that second half, when your legs feel like lead and you wonder why you ever committed yourself to such a challenge, you just keep up the mantra, "INTO THE BREACH, BITCHES!!!!!!" :)
(Not so) Small confession time... I was (and still am) one of those people who gives up. I was suicidal my entire teenage years and the vast majority of my twenties, and have the scars and multiple attempts to prove it. A huge part of it was that so many people kept saying "these are the best years of your life, it's all downhill from here" and my life sucked so much, that I couldn't fathom living if it only got worse. I lost a lot of good opportunities, and a lot of potentially good experiences, because I was lost in my own head, with that insidious, evil, tormenting demon named depression sucking my soul out. Then one day, when I was staring down my 30th birthday, I got a bout of courage and against the wisdom of every single person around me, I decided that I wanted my 30s to be better than my 20s. I made a vow to myself that they would be.You are an inspiration to me, in so many ways. You've bucked the trend I kept seeing, and you are the kind of person I want to be - where I keep challenging myself, where I have the courage to face it, and life keeps getting better for me instead of just giving up. This post is a perfect example, I've wanted to run marathons - for over a decade - and yet I keep getting told " 'we' (my mother usually) just aren't meant to run" or that "I'm too old." I can't even run around my yard right now, so I have a long, long way to go; but, you inspire me that I might manage to do it someday too. You (and Absters and MJ) keep inspiring me to keep fighting and keep going. You (and your characters - even Gilley in his own sweet, weird way) face challenges head on and get on with it, so why can't I?
As for my vow to myself? Well, in November it will be two years. While my progress in life has been so slow that there are bad days I believe it's non-existent, I *have* made progress. While one of the biggest and scariest challenges I've faced in a long time is coming up in a few short weeks (and will re-occur every few weeks for a few months), for the first time in a long time, I have the belief that I can overcome it and work around it. I'm just a few classes away from *finally* graduating with my math degree, and I've made progress on my computer certification. And, majorly, when I failed the second test of said certification, I didn't meltdown. I acknowledged the circumstances, learned from it, learned what I needed to do for next time, and started making plans for the next time.
For the first time in my life, I have tentative plans that are more than a few weeks out. For the first time in over 2 decades, on my better days I'm looking forward to the future and see bright things ahead. I still have bad (and terrible) days, and I still have a LONG way to go, and I still need to acknowledge and forgive myself for what *could* have been if I didn't hate myself so much. There are still a myriad of faults in myself I want to fix or change. Progress is slower than molasses in January. But it's still progress. I'm still plugging away. I'm still fighting. So far, my 30s are looking up.
Robyn wrote: "(Not so) Small confession time... I was (and still am) one of those people who gives up. I was suicidal my entire teenage years and the vast majority of my twenties, and have the scars and multiple..."You are an amazing success story. Early congratulations on the math degree and keep looking forward to your other goals. You're going to knock them out of the park. Who cares if that didn't happen your first time at bat? You're still going to win the game. You are a hero! :)
I'm so adding that to my bib! I'll post pics to FB after Dec 6 Diva...There might even be a running shirt made...
Robyn wrote: "(Not so) Small confession time... I was (and still am) one of those people who gives up. I was suicidal my entire teenage years and the vast majority of my twenties, and have the scars and multiple..."Robyn, what I love about your post is how little you realize just how awesome you are. I suffered from major depression throughout most of my teens, twenties, and thirties. I first contemplated suicide at age elven. But what kept me going then was that I just couldn't let someone else win against me. It's not in my nature to give up, and I daresay it's quite obviously not in yours either.
I have NO DOUBT that you will continue this extraordinary streak, and that someday you'll reach all your goals and run a marathon to boot. I love to run for so many reasons, but most of all because running is such an amazing anecdote for life. There's a runner's saying that, in running, there are only good runs and good learning experiences. You're really starting to look at life with that perspective, and I for one am so proud of you!
Last, I'll leave you with two short anecdotes to help motivate you: The first is that, while I have only been a runner for three years, I started with one step. One step onto the trail and that led to another and another. Each step built up more and more confidence, and I'll never, ever forget the first time I ran five whole miles without stopping. You would've thought I'd won the lotto. Marathons are hundreds and hundreds of miles long - they only end with 26.2miles, but they all begin the same way. With. One. Step.
My second anecdote comes from a story I read about a 65 year-old woman living in a nursing home. A widow, she'd raised three sons, and she went to live in the home because she struggled to get around, and could only do so with the aid of a walker. One day she was sitting in the living room of the group home and a story came on about a local marathon. She was riveted by all the smiling faces of the people crossing the finish line. They seemed so genuinely pleased by their accomplishment. The next day she took her walker outside and shuffled about fifty yards. It was the farthest she'd walked in years.
Two years later she ran her first marathon, and she runs two to three of them a year and now lives on her own, happy, healthy and so fit compared to all those folks she left back in the nursing home.
I think about that woman all the time - I mean, if SHE can do it, I can too, right? And, honey, so can you. So. Can. You. <3
Victoria - this was a great read. And in many ways just what I needed while I am in the middle of facing my own challenges that you already know of. You have such an amazing spirit and I cannot wait for your marathon. I know you will do well and not just because of all your hard work and determination, but with your heart. You have to have heart to complete a marathon and live to tell the tale. You will get a great big medal and it will be awesome!
Jennifer wrote: "Victoria - this was a great read. And in many ways just what I needed while I am in the middle of facing my own challenges that you already know of. You have such an amazing spirit and I cannot wai..."Aww, thanks so much, Jennifer! And hang in there, girl. Remember - you've TOTALLY got this!!!!!! xoxoxo
That is one awesome, awesome blog post!!! {{{hugs}}} Thank you Victoria!
That story helped me as well. I suffer from 35 distinct chronic illnesses according to my doctor. He reviewed my chart when I first started with him, and he rewrote the parts he keeps track of and made this discovery. He did not dismiss me for being too difficult a patient to manage. He enjoys the challenge of treating me. He actually saved my life, too. Several years ago I got a very serious sinus infection that is rather rare. At first they thought I had meningitis, so they did a spinal tap (that I don't remember, thank heavens), and it was negative. Cultures were taken too late to be any good. I had a fever over 103 F. My immune system was compromised by lupus, arthritis, and the heavy duty drugs I took to fight them that knock me down to the level of immune suppressed. My kidneys shut down. I was on bedrest. My first memory was of washing my face on the 4th day in-hospital, and my doc walking in my room as I finished. He said it was the first time he'd seen color in my checks in a week. I went home a couple days later to begin a long recovery. Last year I was having a lot of knee pain. I finally ended up with an excellent orthopedist who discovered on MRI that I had a stress fracture in my right tibia that was essentially splitting the bone in half. Again I was on bedrest, in essence, since I could put no weight on the leg for weeks and weeks.
I still have pain in my knee, but I'm finally gaining strength back in my legs so that I'm not so weak that I shake every time I try to stand for a length of time. I haven't used the wheelchair for weeks - my cats are enjoying it now. I don't leave the house without my cane, but I'm not using the walker my doctor insisted upon. Now I'm battling psoriatic arthritis which has me in agonizing pain. My joints are being damaged with my fingers bending in the wrong directions. Opening a soda bottle is quite difficult. Life is difficult.
I've slowed down. That is my achievement. I usually push myself much too hard, sometimes working through the night. No more. I need to get many more hours of sleep according to my sleep doctor, and I'm trying, but bedtime is one time I don't want to give in to because I can sneak getting more work done while my hubby is asleep along with my cats while I use my iPad. At least I'm enjoying audiobooks on that. It's wonderful to go to sleep (there's a sleep timer) listening to a favorite or new story. Books would be lost to me without it because my neuro-opthalmologist says I have a rare form of Graves disease. The double vision I thought I was struggling with turns out to be estropia (not diplopia) or cross-eyed vision, very difficult to correct with eyeglasses, even with prisms. Audiobooks are my salvation. As are e-books that I can make bigger type to enable me to read them. I still get paperbacks, but it's nice to read them along with the audiobook and really catch everything between the two.
I'd be there in person to cheer you on, and everyone else here with their own challenges, if I could. I'll be cheering from miles away, and with you intuition, you'll feel it, just as the other readers here will feel our encouragement.
Into the breach ladies!!!
Sandie Herron
Such a great blog post - This was just the thing I needed to read this week. Congrats on the training and I know you'll kick butt!
Victoria, you are my hero. Thank you for the inspiration. I'm 53, just started a new job today. I'm with you!
Great post! You are an inspiration even without being OPRAH. Good luck on your marathon. Hope you kill it.
Victoria,I ran the Detroit Free Press Marathon for the first and last time two years ago and it was brutal, so I understand exactly what you're saying about the training and the miles and setting a challenge. I did all right the first half, but the second half was killer. I had detroit police shaking their heads at me while I painfully jogged, or in most cases that last half, walked past. It took me over six hours to finish that bugger! And boy, I was so happy to cross that finish line that I bawled my eyes out when a volunteer placed a medal over my head.
And I love your inspiring blog about not giving up in the face of hardship. I think it will help me to not give up either.
Fyi, I'm only half crazy... but doing 2 half marathons within 7 days... Lots of training to do too! Best wishes on your full!