YOUR ANNOUNCEMENTS ARE AT THE BOTTOM. Today’s guest blogger doesn’t need much introduction (but I’m going to anyway). If you’ve been to a MWF with us, chances are she’s gotten to know you, high-fived you, or at minimum given you a big bear hug. A positivity award winner (for good reason), she’s constantly out in the community at DC bike party parties, WithLoveDC yoga events, or tribe member organized Saturday bike rides, ALWAYS with a giant smile on her face. Her laugh floats above others, her love for this community always evident and her selfless, quirky, don’t care attitude are something to strive for. This past weekend, she toughed it out in some mud at TNF ECS DC (missed it this year? Start planning for next year) for the marathon. Without further ado, KAMI:
Monday morning marked my two-year NPversary, and I literally woke up like this. Not because I’d missed my alarm and slept through hugs and hills for breakfast (my eyes were just working up a sweat, since I didn’t, you know?) but I guess I just felt like my heart was going to burst because it’s full of rainbows or something. The love just came gushing out from my eyeholes in tear form, and who was I to stop it? The ugly crying can’t stop (won’t stop) and I’m not mad about it.
I was, and continue to be, overwhelmed by the amazing community of beautiful, badass humans that cheered me to the finish line on Saturday. I honestly couldn’t believe that anyone besides my own mother was still waiting for me at the end. Because when I reached the halfway point, exhausted, at almost three hours into the muddiest mess I’d ever trekked through and realized I had to turn around and do it all over again, I felt defeated. I gave up on crushing that race like I planned to. I felt like all my training was for naught, like I let down all those who so generously helped me prepare, like I was a disappointment—just like my ugly cry face, I’m not proud, and it wasn’t pretty, but it’s real and it’s true.
So when I turned that last corner and saw the cheer squad still standing there, jumping and screaming, loud and proud, I lost it. In that moment it hit me hard, that while I was all woe is me out on those shitty, swampy trails, the tribe was there waiting all along. They never gave up. They didn’t care what my splits were, or how many mud puddle slips there were, or what place I did or didn’t finish in. Not because they don’t care about me, but precisely because they do—unconditionally. And not just on race day, but every damn day leading up to and coming down from race day. Their positivity is persistent and pervasive and I can’t get enough of it, and it fills my heart with fucking beautiful majestic rainbows.
The reality is that, yes, I could have trained harder, or smarter. Yes, I could have toughed it out and finished faster. Yes, I could have gone to bed at a reasonable hour and woken up on time to make it to the workout on Monday. (Consider this my makeup assignment?) But I’m not perfect, and the best part is: it doesn’t matter. When I need a long run buddy on a weekend morning, the tribe is there. When I struggle through a race and let the mud get the best of me, the tribe is there. When I need some recovery yoga just to walk normally again, the tribe is there. And when I stay up too late (again) and my alarm goes off on a Wednesday morning and all I want to do is go back to bed, I get my ass up and bike down to Abe to run some stairs at sunrise, because you better believe the tribe is there. And the best part is? All I have to do is just show up.
FRIDAY’S LOCATION is in SE and on the TRACKER. 6:29AM #EarnYourWeekend
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