I have never been athletic. When I was five-years-old, my parents enrolled me in soccer camp. My mom tells me that after a few days in attendance, I asked her why everyone wanted the ball so badly, clearly failing to see any point in chasing it around for hours on end. From that point on, I found sports and any kind of physically competitive challenge to be intimidating and unnecessary. I was the kid in gym class who told the male instructors it was my time of the month on a weekly basis so I wouldn’t have to play.
I may have jokingly commented that athletic people are overcompensating for not being as cerebral as they should be, but deep down I’ve always envied their abilities. I almost labeled them as a different breed of person. I would see the girls come into the locker rooms in high school after lacrosse, or track practice, and think they were so much more than me. They had that edge I didn’t have. I was genetically inflexible, endlessly clumsy, and without useful muscle. For years, this was a truth I accepted and reiterated: I am uncoordinated. I am fragile. I am weak.
I harbor this insecurity about physical proficiency, but I constantly hear my peers doubting their abilities. Whether it be someone who wants to skydive, but is paralyzed by fear of heights, an aspiring doctor who is too intimidated by the biology major curriculum, or even someone with a crush that’s too shy to make the first move. We all talk ourselves down when things we want seem too daunting and we just don't think we're on that level.
Last week, I ran a Tough Mudder. This was a 10.1 mile-long obstacle course in 40-degree weather that took roughly five hours to complete. During these 10.1 miles were 19 obstacles which included (but were not limited to) electrical wire, tear gas, monkey bars, barbed wire, a dumpster full of ice water, mud trenches, a huge ramp, and mud so thick and deep that one of our team members lost his shoe. It was, literally, everything I hate in life. It was wet, cold, dirty, drawn-out, and terrifying.
My reaction upon my boyfriend signing me up:
Currently, I’m coming at you live from my bed, three days post-Mudder. Having three essays to write this week in addition to this article, give me plenty of excuses to sit in my room and maintain static inactivity while my muscles continue to ache from the race.
This is because, somehow, I did it.
After months of hard training, I became part of a Mudder Dream Team that embodies squad goals.
I dieted like a champ.
I listened to the inspirational Disney music more than I’d care to admit.
I tried to channel my inner monkey at climbing obstacles,
And I definitely tried not crying halfway through the course.
All gifs aside, I hated it while I was doing it. Everything was scary and painful and uncomfortable. I nearly had a panic attack climbing over a wall, but I made it over. I slid into ice water, felt my body clench into shock, and kept moving once I was out. I twisted my ankle halfway through the course and limped the remainder of the distance.
I say all this not to brag, but to make a point. Whatever it is you’re avoiding by reading this article is far from insurmountable. You’re able to close your eyes really tight while you get that piercing you want despite your fear of needles. You’re able to slay that presentation. You’re able to ask out that adorable human. You’re able to stretch out of what you know and discover new dimensions of yourself you didn’t know were there. Any beliefs you have that you can’t were made by your own mind, which is the only thing holding you back. Don’t overthink. Don’t wait.
Just run.
Or ask yourself when the last time was that you did something for the first time, then change it. You may not be as sorry as you think.
