I was 24, in law school, and I thought I was fat: this is why I decided to sign up for the 5k. I trained poorly for a few days, but – as a former distance runner – I was pretty sure I could pull it off without much work. So, I showed up with a friend in tow, and we nervously got in line with all of the other runners.
On your mark, get set, go . . .
I had all that nervous start-of-the-race energy, so I set out with the people who were in much better shape than me. After a few minutes the very best pulled away from the rest of us, but I was still doing ok . . . solidly in the middle of the “good runners.”
I started passing people and it felt great. I was chugging along and I pulled right past this lady in her 30’s. She had on a blue t-shirt, black shorts, and legs that touched down to her knees.
“Sure would hate to be her,” I thought as I passed. Remember, I was 24, about 135 lbs., and I thought I was “fat.”
I kept running. Faster and faster, wondering in my head why that woman was even in a 5k.
And then, I hit the wall.
I got the stitch in my side.
I felt a little nauseous.
I was determined not to stop so I kept going, slower, and slower. Pretty soon I was barely jogging at all . . . and you know what happened, right?
Mrs. Blue Shirt passed me.
Yep.
Legs touching, shirt sticking . . . she sailed right past me up that hill.
And she didn’t even seem to notice me. Her eyes were fixed forward. Her cheeks were flushed. She was just doing her thing.
I was embarrassed. If she could do it, surely I could too, right? So I tried to catch her, to at least keep pace.
I couldn’t do it.
That woman was determination personified. Finally I just let her pound around the next curve. She probably finished 5 minutes ahead of me.
At the finish line, I took a sports drink and licked my wounds . . . staring at her, already mostly cooled down.
I never forgot her.
For a long time, Mrs. Blue Shirt was a source of shame for me. She represented what I couldn’t do despite a lot of advantages in my favor. Every time someone outperformed me that superficially should not have, Mrs. Blue Shirt was there in my mind. How on earth could she do what I couldn’t? What’s wrong with me?
But at some point, my mindset started to flip. I got myself into enough situations where I looked like I didn’t have a chance, and Mrs. Blue Shirt started to represent something fabulous. Was it grace? Overcoming the odds? Hope? Beating expectations? Maybe all of those things?
Yesterday I went for my first run since my baby was born. I had on my husband’s roomy t-shirt and non-clingy athletic shorts, but things were jiggling on me that no shirt could cover up. To take my mind off of it, I started counting from 1-100, over and over again. But soon even that morphed into a bad rhyme:
1, 2, 3,
jiggly jiggly me
4,5,6
Nothing rhymes with this
7, 8, 9, (okay) 10
I’m flappin’ in the wind . . .
It was getting a little depressing. And then . . .
I thought of Mrs. Blue Shirt: her flushed face, her thighs touching, the fact that she bested me by five minutes . . .
And I kept right on running, right up that hill.
Beth davis says
Love it. That blue shirt lady might have been me! The one 5k I ran in my life. And sweet child, hold on. If you’re fortunate enough to live a long life, your body will continue to metamorphose out of your control. But as the Serenity Prayer says accept what you can not change and change what you can and pray for discernment to know the difference. You already sound as though you have this prayer tucked in your heart. You are taking care of yourself. And you’re focusing on what matters. I enjoy reading your blogs
Melissa Lu says
Sorry I missed your comment earlier! I just think you ran a 5k! It would be a big accomplishment if I could run another one! Serenity prayer seems like a good one for this particular issue. 🙂 Thank you for your encouragement!