Mighty.

Be forewarned - - This is a long one.

Two years ago, if there was even a rumor that I would someday be running 8 and 10k's, I know I would have laughed. Loudly. And for a long time. I'm talking obnoxious laughing, folks.

Yet my journey has taken me here, the after side of the Garlic Festival 10k.

Let me backtrack a bit and start by describing a bit more about my early up-bringing. My mother is someone who has struggled with her weight her entire life. I have early memories of her (and by default, the rest of the family) trying different diets, nutrition programs, shake mixes, and supplements. Given that none of things has ever touched on the deeper issues at play, it will likely come as no surprise that none of these things worked. I first learned to see my mother as she saw herself, powerless against forces at work that kept her overweight, unhealthy, and most of all, very unhappy. The lessons I learned were that our bodies are out of our control, they gain weight and we are powerless to change this. (It also seemed that exercise was a punishment.) Again, likely not a surprise, I also grew up struggling with issues around weight and health. Never quite as badly, as I was able to keep myself in some approximation of reasonable health, but still, my body was the enemy that couldn't be trusted.

This could have gone on forever. However, not quite one year ago, a incredibly significant event occurred, which had a profound, if unintentional, impact on issues related to health and body image. Just one short year ago, a baby was born.

The more detailed story of his birth will likely come soon, but for the purposes of this post, suffice it to say that I was in active labor for six hours, pushed for about fifteen minutes, and made it through the entire experience without any medications. I was deeply committed to giving my child every possible advantage, and everything I had read and learned led me to believe natural childbirth would be to his benefit. So, barring any emergencies or threats to the safety of either of us, I went into the experience of labor determined to attempt natural labor.

And for us, it was successful.

During those six hours of active labor, I had the opportunity to get to know my body in a way I never have before. To some, this may be a long established habit, but for me, it was a very intense education in listening and responding. Yes there were monitors strapped to my abdomen tracking contractions, but I was soon able to tell when they were coming well before anything bleeped.

At the end of it, I held a tiny little being in my arms. Among the many wonderful and complex emotions, I also began to develop a different perspective on my body. It had provided safe harbor for this little person for nine months. It had done exactly what it was supposed to do when confronted with experience of labor. Circumstances had made intense physical demands of my body for a sustained period of time, and my body had been up to the challenge.

When I let myself contemplate it, I began to see my body as something I could rely on. I started to see my body as physically strong.

And so, I began asking more of it. First one mile. Then two. Then I was signing up for an 8k. This past Saturday, my first 10k.

In addition to running the entire six miles (at a personal best for time as a bonus), I've very pleased to say that I noticed my self-talk through the entire run was incredibly positive. "You've done work harder than this, you can finish." "This has an end and you will see it." "Labor was six hours of intense physical pain. You can handle jogging for one hour."

Thinking back on it, I can't help but smiling. My harshest critic is becoming kinder.
And my body, though it now creaks and pops, it is becoming stronger and more capable.

I am allowing myself to become mighty indeed.