I ran today

So I have taken up running in an attempt to complete a half-marathon before I turn 40. (Since I turn 39 next month and I'm a planner by nature- some would say a planner-by-compulsion- I am giving myself a good long time to work up to said half-marathon this fall.) I am trying to get to a point where I am running 3 miles 3 times a week in addition to one long run, one day of cross training and one short run. For those of you who are accomplished runners this may not seem like much of a challenge. And I think that's my problem. I'm constantly comparing myself to others in my attempt to reach my personal best goal of running 13.1 miles without walking. And it's not just in my running that I compare myself to others, it's most things in my life.

I started doing yoga about 10 years ago and my competitive comparing-myself-to-others streak kicked in then too. But here's the thing about yoga: if you can't put your foot behind your head, you can't put you foot behind your head. You can't push it there. You can't force it to go there. If it doesn't go, it doesn't go and looking at others with one or two feet behind their head and wishing and hoping yours would go too, won't make it so. I realized after about a year or so that yoga is about keeping your eyes on your own mat. Literally. You have to keep your eyes and your mind on your own mat and your own body or you will fall over. You can't stay balanced, you can't breathe if you are looking and concentrating and worrying about what someone else is doing or how you can't do what they are doing. You have to keep your eyes on your own mat.

So I try to remind myself of this "keep my eyes on my own mat" when I am trying "keep my eyes on my own tv" while on the treadmill, but still those thoughts of others running longer or faster than me keep creeping in. Then I remember this: in 2006 I had a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy because of my extraordinarily high risk of developing breast cancer. That's right, folks, I have fake ta-tas. And they are fabulous (thank you, Dr. Brandt my plastic surgeon). And after that surgery (which while worthwhile is also a bear to get over) I couldn't walk 1/4 of a mile on my treadmill. I couldn't really do anything except sit and heal (and play gin rummy with my Aunt Ellen).

Which brings me back to my goal of running a 1/2 marathon. Maybe running my 2 miles today didn't reach my goal of running 3 miles today. But I ran. And I was able to. And I am healthy. And I have great fake boobs.

This is the life.
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