Bumps in the Road

Somehow, throughout my life, I have been “blessed” with some seriously strange “abilities”. Working and going to school in a hospital setting has taught me many things, such as not to be grossed-out when bodily fluids (yours or someone else’s) seep out and someone swipe your skin at any given moment. I’ve been forced to open up, be friendly in times of great despair (let’s face it, no one likes being in the hospital). I’ve learned to talk people through the pain, while forcing myself (and them) to believe that this trial won’t last forever. I’ve encouraged them to endure extreme amounts of pain with hopes that it would enhance their life. However, perhaps the most valuable things I’ve learned from that part of my life has nothing to do with the setting itself, but are better applied to the ever-challenging classroom called “life.”

Obviously, life isn’t a piece of cake. If it were, I would be a curvy yet gorgeous size 2 girl with no body issues. And, I would be feasting on a pecan pie while Dr. McDreamy fanned me as I tanned myself and downed champagne on my own private island. Instead, I’m in Texas doing my best to enjoy the holidays when really, all I want to do is curl up in bed and go to sleep, never to wake up until my life makes some sort of sense.

But perhaps sense won’t come for a while. If life is a marathon, then there are going to be times when you feel amazing, and you think everyone is thinking what you’re thinking, which is something like, “She is soooo awesome.” Or at least, this is the commentary that plays out in my own brain.

In a race, you’re running, everyone’s cheering for you and you feel like you’re “the man.” You slap on a grin and take it all in – these people love you and they don’t even know you! Life is no different, especially when you find yourself in those special relationships. You know, the kind where just thinking about the other person makes you smile. You’re cheering for each other and this person does love you. And he/she gets you and all your ridiculousness.

Despite all the glory that comes with running 26.2 or whatever the distance of life may be, there are times when you feel alone. Like the stretch of the race that’s in the middle of no-man’s-land. Out there, your mind starts wandering. You analyze every hint of pain, every breath. No one is standing on the sideline to nudge you along, and for a brief moment, you stop and think, “Who signed me up for this shit?” You think of quitting. Sometimes, you do. Other times, a fellow runner comes from out of nowhere and helps you find the strength to keep moving. Occasionally, you locate it yourself.

Bumps in the road. In both life and running, they are expected. The difficult task is how to handle them when you hit one. How do you keep going when the pain is eating at your insides? Who do you turn to if, suddenly, there’s no one there? Do you pretend you’re okay and hope that no one sees how much you’re hurting? Or do you casually brush it off, knowing it’s only temporary? Is it?

Although the vision of the finish line is inviting, getting there seems near impossible. But once you reach it, you realize that all the agony, frustration, and tears were worth it. As you run down the last stretch of road, people are again cheering. For you. With you.

And eventually, you’ll be cheering for you again, too.