The Vertigo Effect
If I had a dollar for every time I talked about, or thought about, that one time I lost a marathon, I'd be rich. I'd probably quit my job and go to med school. I would definitely install an Endless Pool in my basement. I'd probably establish a Villages-esque community with all my bestie running friends for us to live for all of eternity. Yea. Dollars add up.
Right, so I lost a marathon. And I just keep going back for more. Each time, I'm refining the machine, learning so much from a technical perspective. I am also growing psychologically and emotionally more than the words on this screen could ever tell. With 10 days to go, I'm absolutely terrified that I'm here again.
This past Sunday, I wrapped up the two hardest training weeks of my life, crashing into the remaining two weeks of taper. Half way through the 1st week I felt like I had it. At the end of the first week, I celebrated 'halfway'! I eased into the second week, almost tip toeing, so as to not wake the dragon. After nailing my twenty mile run at the end of week two, I cried tears of joy and felt like a mother fucking boss. I had a few hints of nausea with a consistent dull headache during those weeks and ultimately, I just lost my appetite. Nothing looked appealing, not even tacos, so I thought for sure that I was dying. Occasionally, I'd wind up with a case of the spins; that could have been ANYTHING. Yesterday, three days into my two week taper I went to get checked out. Yadda yadda, I'm diagnosed with vertigo due to dehydration. I thought this was odd because I'm really good at staying hydrated. My labs checked out a-okay; the PA wanted to ensure that since I was training my electrolytes and iron were at normal levels. So what gives?
I had my biweekly therapy appointment today and this was THE topic of conversation. My therapist is wonderful. Never in a million years would I have found her on my own, but here we are. I'd make sure she had her own little cottage in my community, BTW. She thinks that this is all anxiety. I mean, sure, why not? I'm under her care for anxiety. Makes sense! No, but really.
After an hour of tears, maybe a bit of yelling, and some very constructive discussion we figured things out. Here's the deal, guys. I can't fail. I've assigned specific parameters around what failure will mean to me. But I'm not publishing those specifics. And I'm trying to not make a big deal about this race, because I don't want it to be a big deal. But it really fucking is. And if I don't make a big deal then I won't have that far to fall when I fail. Because, ya see, I've fallen before and it's a long, long way from the top. I'll survive the fall, as I always have, barely, but you'll be there. I don't, however, want that to happen, so I'm putting a beautiful polished shell on this. It might crack...actually, it's cracking right now, but that's okay. It's probably not.
I'm being encouraged to 'believe' and to 'trust the process'. Quite frankly, I have no clue what any of that means. Ya know why? Because I don't believe and I guess I thought that I had trusted the process before and it failed me. Or, more likely, I FAILED IT. Never the less, I'm trying again. And I know I'll be back to do it all again. Perhaps it's a drive for human performance, or it's the masochist in me. You will be there to pick me up and I for you. Again. Because, unconditional love.
Here's the plan I need to execute: I must B.E. Best Effort. That's what needs to be left on the course - my absolute best. It's this Best Effort that will forever change my story. And goddamn it, one day, this story will end with me winning a marathon.