Looking back at my last few posts on this blog, I am going to admit that I am a bit perturbed at what I am seeing. I have been expressing two deeply contrasting emotions:

1. absolute confidence that seemingly comes from nothing, about accomplishing a seemingly impossible task that I am, in a typical sense, not nearly prepared for.

2. crushing insecurity and doubt about accomplishing a difficult task that I, in theory, could adequately prepare for in the time allotted before the day the task must be completed.

Reading through your own blog posts is definitely a good way of surveying your own issues. I mean, whatever happens in Pineland on May 27th, I’m probably going to look back on these last few weeks of undulating confusion and either be completely embarrassed, or laugh at myself. But either way, my recent habit of allowing outside influences to keep me in a persisting state of inner conflict has got to go. It’s not how I usually do things – I am much braver than that.

I mean, I’m usually the type of person who jumps feet-first into the icy waters of unknown scary things, holding my nose and wearing nothing but a red swimsuit. And holding a big ole’ bucket of chum. With the exception, of course, of when those decisions affect other people (like moving to California tomorrow, for instance).

So…why, on this occasion, am I acting like a feeble child who can’t so much as choose a balloon for herself? Why do I let other people’s opinions attach like a virus to my doubts, and why do I allow myself to so easily vacillate from confidence to hesitation and back again?

The answer is probably because this is the biggest high dive (or the biggest pail of fish chum) that I’ve ever endeavored before. It’s intensely scary. The more I think about it, the scarier it becomes, and the easier it is for me to forget my original reason for clicking the “Sign Up” button in the first place:

Because that day I decided I’m okay with failing. And even though I might fail, I would feel like more of a failure if I never even try.

This is something important for me to remember, the next time someone tries to knock some logical sense into my head about this race.

And I would like to thank my friend Jason Robillard, who wrote this post about “Choosing Impossible Challenges“, for once again reminding me what kind of person I actually am – and it’s not the person who wants to live a safe, predictable, boring life.

I am going to stay signed up for the 50k race. Hills and all. And I am going to run it until I’ve either finished 50 kilometers, or until I decide to accept a DNF. I am going to learn a lot that day, not the least of which will be how strong of a person I am. I’m dying to find out.

Other related posts:
Flirting with a DNF
γνῶθι σεαυτόν(know thyself)
My Final Thoughts on 100 Miles