Original Link : https://medium.com/afwp/your-just-is-anothers-wow-1c9192613229
How to rediscover awe
I was explaining to a friend the other day that I’m thinking about entering a Turkey Trot — a race held on Thanksgiving morning. “It’s just three point one miles,” I said and shrugged. She looked at me like I had sprouted five extra eyeballs. “Just? I don’t know if I’d want to walk that far.”
That got me thinking. There was a time when running a 5k seemed impossible. But a while back, I started to notice all the runners zipping back and forth past my house. And then I asked myself a life-changing question: Why couldn’t I do that?
A few days later, I hit the streets. My first run was a disaster. I ran the whole thing somewhere close to my max heart rate, substituted normal breathing for wheezing, and managed to skin both my knees. Not the proudest ten minutes of my life.
The nest day, bandaged, and with a shiny new inhaler in tow, I went out again. And again. Pretty soon, I could run a mile. Then three. I started reading everything I could find about running.
The morning I finished my first 5k, I was flying high. I ate orange slices with gusto and high-fived the other runners. I stretched and strutted in my sweat-soaked running duds until it was time to head home and shower off the funk of that first taste of triumph. That night I signed up for a half marathon, then panicked and ate half a bag of peanut butter M&Ms while frantically Googling “How to become Kenyan”.
Eventually, I calmed down and decided to just take it one run at a time. But as the date of my second race approached, my sense of accomplishment plummeted. I compared myself to other, faster runners. I beat myself up for being a tortoise in a field of hares. I finished the half marathon, but I’d lost my sense of awe. I needed to get it back.
And then I was given a gift.
Nagging pain in my right foot turned out to be a stress fracture, which landed me in a stability boot for two months. The week I was finally cleared to stop wearing that horrible contraption, I stepped off a curb, rolled my left ankle and fractured it. I spent another two months in a boot.
It was only by losing my ability to run that I realized how much I’d accomplished. Like a lot of things in life, we often don’t stop to look around and appreciate how far we’ve come. We keep our eyes trained on the summit and forget to take in the view on the way to the top.
And we often don’t truly see those climbing below us. Like my friend who was flabbergasted at the thought of running three miles. She could do it. So could you. All it takes is a little momentum and the right mindset.