How many times have you hid your emotions from those around you when you did not need to? I say “when you did not need to” because sometimes the truth is that we are not in a safe or appropriate place to show our emotions. I don’t want to be sobbing in a job interview, for example. But many times, we are in a safe place around people who would not only understand but who would want to be supportive of us in a moment of difficulty. And we hide our true selves anyways.
Or how many times have you hid your emotions from yourself? Part of you knows that you are not okay but you lie to yourself and say that you are and just keep pushing forward, never to address that little doubt in your head or the tightness in your chest that never quite goes away?
We all do this. And we do ourselves and everyone else a disservice because of it. When we see people who seem put together all the time, we compare ourselves to them. And thus we reinforce our decision to keep hidden our fears, insecurities, and pain. But the secret is that everyone has these, and we build community and love when we let each other know this.
I have a story that taught me a lot about how intensely I used to hide my emotions and how that did me a disservice in the long run.
The punch line: I didn’t let myself cry at the finish line.
I trained for the marathon for four months. I pushed through the worst physical pain of my life. I saw the finish line, I saw my friends cheering for me. I felt a sob coming on, and I choked it back. I finished the marathon - one of my most hard-won achievements in my entire life - with a fake smile on my face.
I absolutely hated running for most of my life. When I ran the required mile in 8th grade gym class I almost threw up. But in college, I knew I needed some form of exercise, so a few times a week I went to the park and ran between two trees. I would run one length, and walk the next. Over the next few years this turned into trying a 5k (3 miles), and then another one. And then a 10k (6 miles). About 8 years into my running journey I found myself living in a city where people are running all the time, and race opportunities abounded.
One particular race was a half marathon (13 miles) on a trail system that I could run with my dog. So I signed us up. He became my training buddy, my accountability partner, and we ran that thing. No matter that it took us three hours. I never though I would be able to run that far.
I remember hitting mile 9 and thinking oh my god, I cannot imagine having 17 miles to go. 17 more miles, of course, would have been a marathon distance. I ran a few more half marathons the next year. The last one I did was really special. It was the Missoula Half Marathon and the community came out in full force. Everyone was in their yards with signs and cheering at 7am, cheering the entire way. I thought well if it’s ever possible for me to run a marathon, this will be it. Maybe they could get me through it.
So I thought what the hell - I’ll sign up for a marathon. I can always drop down to a half-marathon if I need to. Which I was sure I would. Absolutely positive I could not run a marathon.
I found a training program (thank you, Hal Higdon) and I committed myself to it. I ran four days a week, I ate spaghetti and meat sauce every day for two months. I took ice baths. I ran when I didn’t want to. Like really did not want to. I remember having a 12 mile run I didn’t want to go on and I was just pissed the whole time. I roped others into my running - thanks to my brother for doing a long run with me on vacation. My running shoes were my constant companion. And what do you know - my body was able to do what I thought was impossible. Now I believe that with the right training and eating (so much eating) almost anyone who can physically run could run a marathon.
By mile 18 I hit the dreaded wall. Earlier than I thought I would, My 20-mile training run had gone quite well and I was feeling confident I’d get to 22 miles or so before my body tried to shut down. But at mile 18 that day my body just said nope! Let’s quit this thing. Because my mind is really good at arguing with and ignoring my body (something I have worked on quite a lot but did me well this day), I did not quit. I cried a few times when no one could see me, on the lonely stretches. Around mile 22 I was in more physical pain than I’d ever experienced. It was everything I could do just to keep putting on foot in front of the other. Literally.
And then I saw the finish line. I saw my friends cheering for me, knowing they’d been waiting several hours to see me cross the finish line. And I choked back what was the most natural thing in the world at that moment - a sob. A sob for the hard work, and for the days I didn't want to run but I did anyway because I committed to doing this, for the support I had for all of those months. It was a herculean effort just to get to the starting line, let alone get to the finish line. And I stopped that cry from escaping. I regret it every day. It is my main motivator for doing another marathon one day (maybe): crying at the finish line.
I hid my trust expression that day, and for what? So a bunch of people who wouldn’t remember the moment anyway would not see me cry? So my friends would not know how much pain I was in or how much that moment meant to me? I feel so sad for myself that I hid that part of me. And it’s been a huge lesson for me since. A few weeks ago I cried in front of a bunch of people and I thought of this moment and I smiled.
