A Beautiful Work In Progress

by Mirna Valerio

Despite all my questions, the answers were an invitation for me to get my ass up there and continue showing the world that people who aren’t white/male/skinny/athletic-looking, et cetera can participate in these types of events and even be successful, provided that they’re dedicated to the months of preparation needed to at least get to the start line.

Like many runners, I do the work because I can, and there is honor in that. Honoring my body, honoring the sport. Honoring my family that allows me to train endlessly on weekends when I could/should be attending basketball games, socializing with my book group, planning and making elaborate “clean” meals, sleeping in with my spouse, running errands . . . Honoring the human body by moving through nature as it is meant to do.

When you can see the power that you have—the physical and mental prowess you were likely born with, but your belief in it has been squashed due to various life events and others’ perceptions of you—and then you realize that you had it in you the whole time and you just had to coax it out at the right minute in the right situation, you start to believe that you can do anything.

Instead of being ashamed of doing what you do or being what you are, I ask two important questions: Why not celebrate it? Why not be proud of the fact that the body you are in can do great things?

It’ll take over my life? I’m sold. If the thing that takes over my life isn’t illness, depression, or something similar, then I’m sold.

Practicing more piano doesn’t make me a perfect pianist, but it makes me a better human being. It makes me more patient with my own learning and myself. It teaches me that I can experience deep joy simply by doing. Ultrarunning is similar. I’m not good at it. I’m not an elite runner. I’m always at the back, and sometimes I’m last. I don’t always make every cutoff, and sometimes I have to be pulled from the course. I’m slower than most power-hikers. People loop me on the course, but aside from some fleeting disappointment, I still want to be out there, in nature. There is still a beauty about simply doing the difficult thing that I will never be good at, for the pure pleasure of having engaged in the process.