A balancing act.

If you don’t have anything nice to say…don’t say anything at all.

We’ve heard this saying over and over again our entire lives. As much as I try to practice it let’s be honest- I’m a girl, and sometimes I can be a total bitch. So what happens when you write a weekly personal blog and quite frankly, don’t have anything nice to say? What happens when things get personal, and you realize you’re writing to an unknown audience (Or even worse, people you know!)? Do you just skip a blog day? Post an empty page? Or do you make up some sunshine-and-happiness-bs, post an inspirational quote, and pretend like you’re fine?

Ever since my first post I’ve tried to write in the confines of “keeping it nice”. I never want this to be a space of doom and gloom, whining, and looking for sympathy. But at the same time- I made a promise to myself that I’d always keep it real. I’m not going to tell you how glorious I feel if in reality I just want to crawl in bed and eat my weight in mac ‘n cheese. Trust me- you’ll know.

So I’m getting personal here. Spilling my deep dark thoughts. I’ve been feeling pretty half ass lately. Definitely not working to my full potential. My workouts have been off, but with reason: I’ve been sick (yes, the same god damn cold that I’ve had since Christmas Eve), my shins had been really inflamed, and the Polar Vortex struck earth. All logical reasons as to why I haven’t been able to do what I normally do. But in my head, they sound like a bunch of excuses. And excuses landed me where I was two years ago. I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve heard that I’m never going to get better unless I slow down, or that I need to let my shins recover, or that I just need to take a rest day. But in my twisted head, rest days are a sign of weakness. In my mind a day off is going to spiral into the Kathleen who used to go to the gym on Monday, take Tuesday off, and by Wednesday was back at square one. I can’t stop, won’t stop, because quite simply I’m terrified of what will happen when I do.

So while I pushed through the sickness, and the shin pain, and the freezing cold, I could see the spiral happening. When I quit my swim workout in frustration that I couldn’t even make it a half mile without a break, I knew something was wrong. And when what was supposed to be a 4 mile tempo run put me into crying hysterics, the red flag came up. This isn’t okay, this isn’t normal. But what do you do when the thing that you love and is your de-stresser in life.. is stressing you out?

I headed to yoga Sunday morning hoping to quiet my mind and soothe my tired body. But I found myself fumbling through warrior pose, and that quiet time at the end when you’re supposed to lie all still and relaxed? I am surprised the entire room couldn’t hear my thoughts.

For the past year and a half I’ve been on a whirlwind of a journey, there’s no denying it. My body is different, my mindset is different, even my soul feels different. Before I even finish one goal I’m thinking about the next. It’s no wonder I’m exhausted. I’m sure the trained professionals and those who read my blog but can’t stand me (I know you’re out there…I’m a bitch too remember?) have been waiting for the inevitable crash.

I have to keep reminding myself that I’m still new to this world. Still testing my little runner legs. There’s so much out there I want to learn, and do, and prove to myself and I’ll get there eventually. But I need to find my way, find my balance.

So here’s to a new week. Clear(er) lungs. Shins that are frozen not from the Polar Vortex, but from the ice massages I’ve been faithfully giving myself. Here’s to taking it one step at a time. To listening to my body when it needs a break. To trusting those who know best. Here’s to finding my balance so that this world I’ve discovered lasts me a lifetime.