I’ve been contemplating the concept of
starting over on a few different levels lately.
The first, and probably the most superficial, has to do with my
training. I vowed to train 4,000 miles
in one year for many reasons. What can I
tell you? I am not off to a great
start. I was filled with conviction in
early October as the anniversary of Ruben’s death neared, logging miles with
passion a few at a time. Friends joined
me and pledged to train by my side. But
when life happened – work events, ACL, other commitments, grief, blues, fatigue,
fear… I began to hit snooze and feel hopeless.
I won't give up. I committed to you, my friends and strangers
in cyberspace and in life who send me strength and lift me up. I pledged to Texas 4000 riders old and new,
all whom I admire and respect. I set this goal in Ruben's memory which I vow to honor every day. It is my attitude, not the clock, that I need to reset.And so I will.
A friend who has become
dear to me is helping me choose a half Ironman that we will train for
together. 70.3 combined miles of
swimming, biking and running – in one day, back to back. The power of one person believing in me is
immeasurable, and I know deep down that she is not alone. I will have no choice but to find discipline
and routine, the traits that often elude me.
Tomorrow is a new day – a day that will start with a run in my beautiful
city.
But that’s not the only “starting over” I am faced with. Ruben has been gone now for more than two years. Sometimes that remains so hard to wrap my mind around. Often when I think about moving forward, it hits me all over again that moving forward with him is not an option. I want to stomp my feet like a toddler and scream, “It’s not fair!” However, I’ve chosen over and over again not to go that route. Or at least not to stay in that state for more than a few minutes. I am grateful for the time and the love that we had and I accept that it was brief. On what would’ve been our third wedding anniversary, November 6, I compiled the collage below. I look at these photos and it just doesn’t seem possible that I could ever be whole again. You can see how it is an endless circle, round and round in my mind, right?
But that’s not the only “starting over” I am faced with. Ruben has been gone now for more than two years. Sometimes that remains so hard to wrap my mind around. Often when I think about moving forward, it hits me all over again that moving forward with him is not an option. I want to stomp my feet like a toddler and scream, “It’s not fair!” However, I’ve chosen over and over again not to go that route. Or at least not to stay in that state for more than a few minutes. I am grateful for the time and the love that we had and I accept that it was brief. On what would’ve been our third wedding anniversary, November 6, I compiled the collage below. I look at these photos and it just doesn’t seem possible that I could ever be whole again. You can see how it is an endless circle, round and round in my mind, right?
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One of my most powerful experiences with starting over was about five years ago. I traveled to Austin from Philadelphia for the first time in November 2008 for a work conference. There was no question – I felt at home instantly and noticed a subtle tugging – something telling me to consider a life in Austin, Texas. In my early 30’s with a good job and no real reason to move – I tucked the thought away. Then, boom! I was laid off from my job. The universe was practically forcing me to act on my instincts. Despite people thinking I was losing my mind, I set my sights on a big move to Austin and made it there by March, driving myself halfway across the country with a few job leads, one friend from college, and a strong gut feeling.
Most of you know what happened
next. I led with an open mind and open
heart, networked my butt off, met wonderful people, made a life and a home for
myself in Austin, and was soon introduced to Ruben. I could write volumes about the last few
years and the countless people, experiences, opportunities and blessings that
made them rich and full and unforgettable.
But my point here is that I have evidence – true and personal evidence –
that I started over at least once before.
And the outcome was somehow beyond my wildest dreams.
While I have been
working on acceptance and letting go for a long time, it is only in the past
few weeks that I’ve sensed a shift in my perspective. I recently asked someone who lost his loved
one many years ago about how to move forward when nothing will ever be the
same.
“It will be different. It has to be different. We live in the present. And you'll be surprised what you may discover in due time. No, not surprised - delighted.”
Just when I was running low on hope, those are the words that rescued me. I know I’d given myself permission to be “okay” long ago - partially because I knew Ruben would have wanted me to be. But it is finally starting to sink in that I’m allowed to be more than okay. Maybe… just maybe… I will even be delighted.
“It will be different. It has to be different. We live in the present. And you'll be surprised what you may discover in due time. No, not surprised - delighted.”
Just when I was running low on hope, those are the words that rescued me. I know I’d given myself permission to be “okay” long ago - partially because I knew Ruben would have wanted me to be. But it is finally starting to sink in that I’m allowed to be more than okay. Maybe… just maybe… I will even be delighted.
And so I start again...
