That's changed. I'll explain in a minute.
Earlier in the year, I was inspired to do something for Mother's Day beyond my usual routine, which is to sit and mope. I've never been able to work at the restaurant because, honestly, it hurts seeing people celebrating someone they love while knowing that I can't share that feeling with my own family. Consequently, for the last two years, I've just avoided the day entirely. I'd call my family, but that would be about it.
This year, however, I wanted to make a change. Sitting around inside, essentially taking a day off from life, is all well and good, but it's done nothing to better my state of mind. If anything, it causes me to become more depressed, as I become increasingly self-aware that I'm hiding away, afraid to even step outside my door.
At the same time, I realized (this year more than ever) that I'm really not alone - there are countless other people who are in similar situations. I'm not the only one to lose a parent. I'm not the only one who's watched someone they love suffer. I'm not special. I'm part of a giant community.
After thinking on that moment, the sense of shame and desire to do something about things grew so large that I acted on another impulse I've been harboring for quite some time - to run a 5K.
5K's in Chicago - anywhere, really - are kind of like superhero/comic book movies: there's a new one coming out every weekend, it feels like. All you have to do is throw a rock in Grant Park on any given Saturday or Sunday and there's probably a race of some kind happening. They're everywhere. Running culture in Chicago is a constantly happening thing. People go out for jogs every hour on the hour in my neighborhood, bedecked in running pants/shorts, running shoes, and some sporty kind of t-shirt. It's never been my cup of tea to throw on gym clothes, plug in my headphones, and go out and run for miles and miles. It's always seemed kind of alien. For much of my life, I've adhered to Charles Barkley's philosophy of working out ("I don't run because I get tired, and I don't lift weights because they're heavy.") It's seemed the safer reaction.
In the years since graduating college, however, my level of physical fitness has - how to put this delicately... - spiraled downhill faster than Mariah Carey's career. I've put on weight, I smoked for a goodly amount of years, and I started to take escalators at train stations more and more to avoid getting out of breath. In the horribly superficial world of acting, nobody wants a mildly overweight character actor - I can't actually back this up, but I'm fairly certain my physique was starting to harm my career. (To say nothing of my long term health.)
Factoring these decisions in, I realized it was time for a change.
Which is how I happened upon the Susan G. Komen 5K Race for the Cure.
It was scheduled for Mother's Day. It was a 5K. It had a reasonable entry fee. It was for a good cause. It would get me out of the house - and hopefully out of my funk.
It's almost as if the universe was crying out for me to sign up. Which I did. Immediately.
I second guessed my decision several times. I had joined a gym slightly before my decision to join the race (or after...I can't exactly remember...). Working out was certainly physically taxing, enough so that I began to worry that I wouldn't be in good enough shape for the race. It's hard to go from 0 to 5K in about 5 weeks, although there are plans out there for those who want to do it. More to the point, my inertia (or inner "blerch") took over - there's easier things to do out there! you can always try again later! it's too much for you to handle a show, two jobs, a social life, and working out on a consistent basis! have some cake!
It wasn't exactly a struggle to get myself ready for the race - I've gone through worse things than shoving my ass onto a treadmill before, and I didn't exactly have to sacrifice much to do this. However, it was some kind of struggle.
 |
| At least the treadmills were encouraging. |
And then, yesterday was race day.
Meryl Williams (a damn good writer in her own right, as well as a fellow member of the Addison Recorder) signed up to join me in the race. I was glad she did - running alone would've been hard, to say nothing of my already high level of emotional difficulty on the day. If she hadn't joined me, it certainly would have been a more draining emotional day. Having a good friend there really helped me a lot. (Memo to readers - if possible, always find a racing buddy. It makes everything better.)
 |
| For the record - those are LIGHT beers. LIGHT. |
Our plans were set in stone, and we encouraged each other in the weeks leading up to the race, working out and adhering to our own personal training schedules. The day before, we carb-loaded with a dinner of fettucini, tomato sauce, hippie beef, and salads. The morning of, we took the Brown Line downtown. We wandered around the site, which had more of a carnival/festival atmosphere than I had expected. There was a survivor's tent, room for the various teams which had signed up, free food, and a live DJ with dancing. It wasn't a memorial, it was a celebration of life.
 |
| They even handed out crowns! |
Which was exactly what I needed.
Then came time for the race.
 |
| Pre-race |
There's something wonderful about running through the streets of Chicago. It's easy to take in the sights while walking, but there's an exhilarating feeling from speeding past city landmarks, like the Field Museum, the Congress Hotel, Millennium Park, and that diamond-shaped building from "Adventures in Babysitting". Better than riding a bus, better than simply walking, it was a reminder of how awesome it is to be alive.
We did well, considering that it was my first 5K ever. We mutually agreed to take short walking breaks as necessary - while we were racing, we weren't racing in the strictest sense of the word. We cheered each other on, and we stuck together. We ended up finishing 497th and 498th out of over 1,000 runners. While our times might not be what we wanted - we were shooting for 10 minute miles, something we missed by about 1 minute - we finished it. We accomplished that much.
It wasn't quite as emotional as I expected it to be. I was worried I would break down upon crossing the finish line, wrecked with emotion. Rather, it was hard not to keep from smiling. There was a profound sense of exhilaration. It felt great. I'm trying to find words to convey the exact feeling that swept over me - a palpable sense of relief coupled with a profound sense of self - without sounding like a douchey inspirational/motivational speaker. So I'll leave you with this: I'll never be completely free of the sense of grief I felt losing my mom. But I know she'd have been proud. More to the point, I was proud of myself for getting off my ass and doing something that benefited not only myself, but countless other people.
And that's a pretty good feeling at the end of the day.
No comments:
Post a Comment