I can check it off the list. Actually, there is no list. But I did it. I ran the race. I completed. Finished. Managed to run a 10K. No walking. No crying. No pouting. I, as Nike likes to proclaim, yet utilizing a different verb tense, “just did it.”
So I feel good. Accomplished, at least for a time. My next goal? Well, physically speaking, it’s to learn to correctly swim laps. But that will come this fall, once the weather turns and it’s chilly outside.
Other goals? I’m not exactly sure. Except I want to be brave.
I’ve realized, as of late, being brave doesn’t necessarily mean acting like a firefighter about to enter a burning building. Bravery can occur in an ever so silent, personal act which no one else ever has to know about.
My daughter complemented me yesterday on how I handled a situation. Something unexpected happened. Instead of allowing it to throw me off kilter, I took steps necessary in accomplishing what needed to be done. It wasn’t a huge deal, but at the same time, it was one of those [first times] one faces as a newly single woman.
My routine has been altered. I awake each day in a different place than in previous times, even those it’s technically the same locale in the physical sense. I know bravery is required if I am to move forward. While I could stay here, on this level, it’s not where I belong. I see myself out there, far away from the present.
It’s little steps now. A race run. Slowly. A phone call. A new idea. A new world.