My Pace Setter...

Yesterday was everything that one would expect from a Monday. Hectic, filled with fires waiting to be doused and a troublesome prelude to the week ahead. By the time I headed home for the day, my mood was stormy at best, but I was trying my hardest not to let the day's events spoil my evening. I was almost an hour behind my normal schedule and debating whether or not I should pass on my work-out to get dinner together. I decided to roll the dice and ask my husband to join me. If he said yes, I would go. If he said no, I would pass.

I suspect he sensed the turmoil inside me though he implied he simply wanted to burn off his own frustrations, but a quick fifteen minutes later we were in the car heading to the gym. We had changed our routine recently and weather permitting, we had taken to walking outside in the nearby neighborhood where our gym was located followed by weights and Ab exercises. Today was definitely outside weather, so after parking the car and securing our phones and personal items, we started down the walking path at a brisk pace.

We were not long into the walk when Chuck casually mentioned that he noticed I had not written in my blog for several days. I made the usual excuses. "Chelsey was home. I was busy catching up at work. With everything going on, something had to give. At least, I pointed out, I wasn't letting go of my exercise routine, I just wasn't writing about it."  And then he untapped the storm inside. "You need to write more. You are happier when you are writing." 


The next five minutes weren't so pretty. Instead of hearing what he was saying, I went to that defensive place I had promised myself to leave behind. Chuck rather patiently let me go there while he listened. His only real response was to increase the pace of our walk. After venting my frustration, we continued ahead in silence. At this point I was struggling to maintain my composure. The emotions from the last several weeks were in my throat and I was fighting to keep the tears from falling. I tried to concentrate on just keeping up with Chuck's quickening pace, but as hard as I was trying to push all the feelings back down, I just couldn't seem to manage it.

When I began my blog, I had found it both easy and rewarding to write, but this last month I was clearly struggling to find my voice. Was I happier because I was writing or had I been writing because I was happier? What came first, the chicken or the egg? I knew the truth lied somewhere between the two ideas, but my emotions were clouding my vision.  As I pondered the problem while still trying to keep pace with my husband, he nudged me just a little further. "It's a blog. Your supposed to write about the good and the bad, the successes and the failures, the positive and the negative. Not every message has to be a happy one. Just write." As I stopped and started to protest, he gently nudged me forward, "Let's keep moving. You'll feel better when we get to the end of the walk." 

Somewhere during the remainder of our four mile walk it hit me. I started this quest in part to force myself to look at my actions more truthfully, but by avoiding the pen, I had found a way to hide from the storm of feelings I had been trying to contain. Chuck had been right. I needed to write in my blog. Not simply because it brought me joy, but because it held me accountable to myself. I had been doing a fair job of putting on a face these past few weeks, but I was also hiding from a wellspring of sadness. It was time to acknowledge the sadness, find a way to let it go and move forward. It was the end of our walk, and my legs were feeling it. Chuck had set a pace that left me sore, but signaled a good work-out. And while I hesitate to tell him too often that he is right, I did feel better at the end.