Wings to Fly

So, why not enter a contest? Tonight, I entered a contest for Time Out for Women about living life a little higher. I could explain an experience or journey, linked to living life higher.

Here it is:

Wings to Fly

Yesterday, I ran fast. On a treadmill at the Apple Athletic Club, I pushed the "up" arrow repeatedly, and let the speed settle at  8.2. My legs flew and my arms pumped as I watched a little red dot on my screen. The little red dot started making its way around a race track. The dot was me, and I needed to get around the track four times to complete my mile.

Marathon Training for the past two months prepared me for this mile. I knew I could run at least thirteen miles, so a mile should be easy. I suspected I could run fast, but I did know how fast. My mind balked at the 8.2 pace, and I realized I needed some cheerleading. As is often the case in mortal experience, I got to be my own cheerleader.

If my thoughts were audible, the people running and lifting around me would have heard, "Tara, you got this! Keep going! Halfway through! Look how fast you're going! Don't give up! Goooooooo, Tara!" Thanks to the cheerleading and training, I ran my fastest mile in years.

I had time for that one experience on the treadmill, but I don't logically have time to train for a marathon. I have three small children (6, 4, and almost 2), and I teach English classes for BYU-Idaho online. I already wake up early to work, and work during nap time. During heavy grading weeks, I work after the kids go to bed at night. In addition to teaching, I volunteer in my son's kindergarten classroom, serve in the Young Women's organization, and work in the childcare facility at my gym once a week (which pays for my gym membership). I cook, I clean, I launder, I lather. Above all else, I want "quality" family time. So how does marathon training fit into my life?

Simply, it fits right now because it is important to me, and because my family supports me. Sister Marjorie Hinckley told President Gordon B. Hinckley, "You have always given me wings to fly, and I have loved you for it" (Hinckley, Oct. 2004, General Conference). My husband gave me wings to fly when he "gave me" my marathon training, and I am making the most of it by racing self-doubt and comparison.

Racing self-doubt is not easy or fun. Self-doubt has been my companion in sports, in academics, and even in parenting. It was no surprise when self-doubt joined me on my runs. Self-doubt peppers me with questions as we dodge cars and maneuver around ice: "How on earth are you going to run 20 miles on a Saturday? Don't you realize you want too much? Will you really be able to prepare for your marathon? Can you do this?" I keep running. Every week, I check off all the runs I accomplish, and I am amazed. I beat self-doubt by doing what I need to do, one mile at a time.

Racing comparison is harder. I know too many great runners, and they are faster than me. But after years of being told not to compare, I am finally glomming onto the truth that I am training for my best race. My husband, the lawyer, says I am casting away "non-productive thinking." I set new personal records for longest runs and fastest miles, and I do my very best.

It will be impossible to ignore the other runners in my marathon, or my own self-doubt, but I will keep in mind that, "All of us are in the middle of a very personal mortal experience" (Julie Beck, Oct. 2010, General Conference).  I will cheer us all on, and pray that our training and cheerleading give us wings to fly.