I Am a Runner and Other Things I Forgot or Dreaming Big Again

“The doctor says you’ll never run again.” Those were the first words I remember my (ex)husband telling me when I gained consciousness from surgery four years ago. I woke up disoriented, as one does after being put under, looked down, and saw a monstrosity on my leg, the leg brace I lovingly called The Beast, which I would wear for 10 long weeks. This news took me mostly by disbelief – I had gone into surgery for the purpose of fixing my knee so that I could run again. As I processed this news, which was reiterated by my surgeon later that day, I didn’t realize the impact those words really had made on me. I spent my days rehabbing my leg, spending 2 hours a day in a cooling machine, 2 hours a day on a movement machine and 1 hour a day in PT, trying to just lift my leg an inch off the ground. I spent my nights dreaming about running and waking up in grief. I got a very soft clearance from my PT after months of work that I could try to jog for 5 second intervals. The most I could hope for was one 5k a year, but I was happy with that – it felt like a victory after my surgeon had said my knee was so bad it warranted a full replacement when I was a little older.

And while this should have felt like beating the odds, it had the opposite effect. I felt defeated by the limitation. I hadn’t realized how much I had identified as a runner, probably because I hate running. I hated running for as long as I can remember. I remember feeling like I wasn’t the type of kid who could be athletic. As anorexia took over my late teens, running became a way to punish my body for living. Later I used running as a way to hustle for approval and recognition from others – I beat my body up in the hopes that if I just ran long enough, someone would be proud of me, of who I was. And now all of this had been taken away from me. It was devastating. But what I learned was that while running had started as punishment, it had turned into something I identified with, something that made me feel alive and proud of myself.

Fast forward a few years from that surgery day and so much of my life had changed. I went from a wife to a single mom. I felt like damaged goods in my faith and by society. I attended the mandatory coparenting training where I got to hear about how my failure to keep my husband happy would lead to my children being at risk for drugs and depression. I felt defined by my divorce - my new identity. I felt constantly judged. Walking into my son’s game by myself for the first time took more courage than I knew I had – thank goodness I had friends that asked me to sit with them so I didn’t feel alone. Changing my last name felt like a leap because it would announce to everyone that I was single and my kids would have to acknowledge their parents had separated. The shame was so strong. But slowly, slowly I started to think about what my identity is now. I had lost myself for so many years – I went from a wife to a mom to a divorcee and lost a Jenny in the process. I honestly didn’t even remember what I liked to do.

It’s been hard to reclaim Jenny. I started dating and felt judgment that I would spend any time doing anything that wasn’t related to being a mom. In full disclosure, I sobbed after my first post-divorce kiss because I felt so much guilt that I was cheating on my family – I had taken Catholic vows to be faithful for life. Catholics don’t divorce. I’m burning in hell right now as we speak. (At least it’s warmer than Iowa in November.) But at the same time, I didn’t feel like pining away for my kids when they were at their dad’s was healthy – it only made me sad and reminded me of their absence. I got advice that I should save all of the housework and shopping for when the kids were gone – not only would it fill the time my kids were away but it would also allow me to focus on them when they were home. And I tried that but soon realized that all that did was teach my kids that women will do all the heavy lifting when they aren’t there to spare them the reality of running a house and it also took away from me too – I truly am more than a mom.

It’s funny how we forget who we are. Recently I started a list of 100 dreams. One of the casualties of divorce is it takes away the dreams you had for the future. It was time for me to start a new list of things I wanted to do. And as I brainstormed, I slowly started to remember Jenny. She likes to read, write, teach, move her body, help others, be outside, create and experience life to the fullest with her kids. I wrote down goals I’ve never considered before – visit every National Park, play the drums again, learn how to play the banjo, learn how to knit, write a book, get a PhD, learn how to decorate a cake. There are no dreams too big or too small for this list.

I dusted off one of those old dreams I thought was gone. Running. It was time to shake off those first post-surgery words that haunted me for so long. I forgot that I am a runner. Just simply remembering who I am was so empowering – it completely changed my mindset and I started running consistently again. It isn’t pretty and I have to give myself a lot of grace – and some days ice and Advil. But that’s okay. When I started running 20 years ago, it wasn’t pretty either and I took plenty of “Vitamin I” back then also. Sounds like I am right on track (is that a running pun?)

The days of allowing other people to define me and tell me who I am are over. What else had I forgotten about myself? It was time to stop letting the guilt and shame of divorce hold me back. I forgot that I am lovable and as soon as I remembered that fact, I fell in love again. What could I do if I stopped listening to the static? Who was I before I was a mom? It was time to live for that girl again.  

I am so excited to rediscover all of those other things I forgot about myself. I am an artist, a friend, a passionate person, a writer, a teacher. I am all of those things and more. It’s time my children learn more about Jenny and it’s time I remember her too. I can’t wait to be the person that I forgot I was. Truthfully, she never left. She has been waiting for me this whole time. I think my kids are going to like her. I know I do.

Dream big Friends and don't forget who you are. You are the only one who knows for sure.

Stop Fighting the "New Normal" or Think of the Stories We'll Have

 Aren’t we all tired? Aren’t we all exhausted? The pandemic, politics, murder hornets? It is too much and we are all over this “new normal.” I’m even tired of hearing the phrase “new normal.” No big parties, no homecoming, no graduation, the list could go on and on. You go to a restaurant and forget that there may not be seating. Who hasn’t walked into the grocery store only to promptly turn around because you forgot your mask? “Oh,” you think to yourself, “I forgot about the ‘new normal’.”

But what if it’s not the “new normal?” What if it’s just “normal?” Life is always changing and always shifting. And maybe for you, there haven’t been major earthquakes in your life, disrupting your “normal.” Over the last four years, I’ve dealt with nothing but earthquakes – I think I’ve had a “new normal” every year. Major surgery in 2016 completely changed how I move my body, even through today. In 2017 I received a Facebook message from an angry husband that completely changed everything I thought I knew about my marriage. In 2018, my husband filed for divorce and I had to think about how to be a single mom. In 2019, my divorce was finalized. By the time I hit 2020, I was already used to the rules changing on me so maybe that’s why the pandemic, quarantining and a run on toilet paper is just a continuation of what has already been a crazy couple of years. Heck, our family started 2020 off with a broken leg and subsequent surgery in our house – a pandemic just added sprinkles to our garbage sundae.

What I’m saying is maybe we just need to get over the fact that things didn’t turn out the way we wanted them to. Maybe instead of focusing on how it is so different from before, we just focus on what it is – just a different way of living. What I’ve learned is that dwelling on how things are different is a bit toxic when we could be using that energy to just move forward with the new world we live in. I couldn’t help the fact my husband wanted a divorce but I could focus on how to create a great world in my “new normal.” Can I run long distances anymore? No, but I have been challenged to accept my body the way it is.

After the divorce, the mantra in my house is that different isn’t bad, it’s just different. It’s our attitude about what happens around us that makes the difference. Have you ever caught yourself thinking, “I can’t believe this is happening to me!” I know I have and that thought pattern swiftly takes me down a rabbit hole of anxiety, fear and resentment. Now I know for myself, those three horsemen are not healthy emotions in my brain. They waste my energy by being completely unproductive. When I feel any of those emotions, I am too far into them to get myself to do what it takes to change my situation. Instead we are sitting down with coffees at Starbucks, bitching about our lives.

I try to practice meditation every day though. And normally my brain is like a child with ADHD, a box of sugar and 721 things to do, but that’s part of meditation – finding a way to quiet that constant noise. And when I filter through all of that noise and mental distraction and pinpoint that my thought processes are going through the “this is happening to me” film reel, I can take a moment and change it to just “this is happening.” And that makes all of the difference.

What if everything around us isn’t personal? What if our situations are simply just that - situations? Wearing a mask isn’t personal. The pandemic isn’t personal. Getting a divorce isn’t personal (friends that was a hard one to embrace.) But changing my mindset really makes a difference on how I manage change and challenge. Recognizing that things are not happening to me, they are just happening, takes the emotion out of it and allows me to use that energy in a better way – finding a way to live with my “new normal” instead of fighting against it. It allowed me to make a quick shift in thinking from “we are a broken house” to “we get to create a healthier and happier family.” When I couldn’t literally run away from my problems anymore, it forced me to face my disordered eating and negative body image.

I’m not saying I’m good at this. I’m not but that’s okay. I’m working on it every single day. That’s the beauty of being alive – if we were born perfect, we’d be boring. Find me the person who has been through 13 “new normals” and that person will be the most inspirational and interesting person in the room because they are a constant work of art – evolving to become their best self in that moment. As one of my best friends told me when I was going through my divorce, “So this isn’t Plan A anymore. Let’s see what Plan B is. Or Plan C, D or E. We were never always going to have Plan A.” Obviously she is wiser than I am.

So welcome to the land of just “normal.” If we are lucky, we are constantly challenged, forcing us to change into better versions of ourselves. I want to hear about your Plan B or your Plan W. And think of the stories we can tell our grandkids – about how we lived through the Pandemic of 2020, murder hornets and elections where ballots were counted by hand. Wear a mask. Be kind. Love even when it’s scary.