Even though it's only been a few days since I posted my "Difficult, not impossible" post, I had a lot of time to think about it. A lot of time. Hours and hours and hours. Mostly on Sunday.
Sometimes people ask me what I think about during all those hours of training on the bike, in the pool, during runs. I most often answer "Dairy Queen." Because I can get a good 12 miles of riding out of a dilly bar. But usually during training my mind mostly sort of shuts off. You'd think I could spend that time thinking about new talks I could put together or new strategies for some of my clients or new marketing ideas for my business. And I guess I could. But I don't. I often don't think about anything. And 3 or 4 hours later, when I get off the bike I often realize, "Shoot, I forgot to think!" But every now and then, I actually am able to think. About more than what I'm going to treat myself with. Sometimes I think about significant stuff.
On Sunday, during the ride especially, I not only had time to think but I had the focus. And I kept thinking about that post.
Difficult, not impossible.
<pedal pedal pedal>
Difficult, not impossible.
<pedal pedal pedal>
Difficult, not impossible.
<pedal pedal pedal>
Difficult, not impossible.
And that's when it hit me. Man! Something about that is buggin' me! I realized, quite suddenly, I had a serious issue with that post. The very post I posted. And I was frustrated because normally I get all my voices to agree before I post something. But apparently, somebody wasn't paying attention.
I spent a few miles during the run trying to zero in on what exactly was bothering me about that post. Then I spent the rest of the miles counting backwards from 300. Or upwards to 300. Or up to 150 then back down. Or, well, you get the idea. It was a long day. At some point between the niggling bugging on the bike and Monday morning on the plane, I nailed it down. Here's the thing. I stand by that post. I do agree with myself. I think I'm right about the Difficults in life. BUT if you would have said those same words to me … the ones about zooming out and seeing the bigger picture and embracing the difficult for what it brings; if you would have said any of those things to me when I was going through treatment - one of the most Difficults of Difficults in my life- I think I would have punched you in the mouth.
Because difficult sometimes is just too difficult. And in those moments when the Difficults fill the entire windshield of our focus, we can see nothing else. The clichés are too clichéd. And the encouragement is too hollow and the light at the end of the tunnel is just too far. We can't be our best. We can't have a stiff upper lip. We can't put a smile on our face and a song in our heart. We just can't embrace the difficult.
And that's okay.
This coming weekend I'll be back on event with the 3 Day for the Cure. Every event I see people do the difficult but not impossible. Every weekend I'm amazed by people pushing themselves. I see little old ladies chugging away mile after mile. I see overweight men and women with ace bandages and tape on their knees hobble along with smiles on their faces. I see people walking in flip flops on day 2 because their shoes rubbed their feet raw. I've seen firefighters walk the entire 60 miles in full gear. I've seen 2 girls do the whole route while hula-hooping. I've seen husbands push their wives who are weak and confined to wheelchairs. I've seen women leave early on Friday to take chemo and return on Saturday to walk. I've seen walkers sent to the hospital with dehydration only to come back the next day to finish what they started. I've seen people define "difficult, not impossible."
And I've also seen people collapse in pain. I've seen back spasms that require an ambulance ride. I've seen women sobbing in defeat and pain and men crippled by blisters as big as your fist. I've held women as they cried out in pain and helped ice a daughter's twisted ankle as she tells me her mom is watching from heaven and she has to finish. I've listened to mothers as they begged the medical team to let them finish and watched as the medical team does what's right and what's so hard and tells them they just can't let them go on. And I've watched as people try to come to terms with the fact that they didn't achieve the goal they set. And I've seen faces fall and eyebrows knit together and tears spill down cheeks as men and women feel like a failure. And it would be wrong, in those moments, to walk right up to them and say, "Hey! Difficult! Not impossible!"
See what I'm saying?
There was a time, not that long ago, when I knew this as clearly and distinctly as I knew how much a dilly bar cost. There was a time when if you quoted scripture to me or told me to have a positive attitude or sent me inspirational song lyrics I would have gone off on a tirade. There was a time when I wrote posts like this and this and this.
It's amazing what a person can forget.
Life is hard. And some Hards are much harder than anyone should have to endure. The loss of a child. The loss of a loved one. Chemo. The death of a dream. The betrayal of a friend. And on and on and on. Sometimes life is a really tough teacher. And sometimes life isn't a teacher at all. It's just a bitch. And for those of you who are going through the rough stuff, those of you who are facing the hardest thing you've ever had to face and you're wondering how you will do it; for those of you who are crying so hard you throw up and throwing up so hard you pass out and have lost the sense of yourself you once had and are surrounded on all sides by darkness and sorrow and pain, for you I say what my very wise sister once told me:
You don't have to do this well.
You don't have to be anyone's example.
You don't have to be an inspiration for others.
You don't have to be strong, or brave or kind or courageous.
You just have to keep going.
Right around mile 10 of the run of my last half-ironman and right when the wheels were coming off and I was ready to quit, I saw a hand-lettered sign someone propped up beside the path. It read, "Just keep moving ... time will take care of the rest."
Some things are difficult, not impossible. When life throws that at you, zoom out. Get some perspective. See the results of the difficult and not the difficult itself.
For the other times, be gentle with yourself. And just keep moving.
And sometimes someone writes a blog that hits home and the timing of that blog is impeccable. Thank you! I needed to hear some of those words.
Posted by: Dulcineagal | September 22, 2010 at 12:28 AM
wow. thank you... I am often asked how I got through the rough spots in my life. I lost my sister at age 13 to brain cancer, my brother at age 33 (just 4 years ago) to a hit-and-run driver, and my mother to breast cancer, last year at age 61, after her courageous 26-year battle with the disease. My life has been difficult... Not impossible. This year I walked my 5th 3-Day and continue to hope for A World Without Breast Cancer. The 3 Day is difficult, not impossible. Life has its moments... but I just keep plugging along, because ultimately... it's not impossible. And it's worth it. Thanks for all you do, Jenne. You are truly an inspiration!
Posted by: Rebecca Gibbs | September 22, 2010 at 12:31 AM
Your words truly amaze me and inspire me. As most things in life can be difficult when you are in it...they are never truly impossible. Impossible is in your head telling you that you cannot do this or get through this when your HEART tells you that it's just difficult and you will make it through....just believe in you!
Thank you Jenne for such amazing inspiration!
Posted by: Cezanne (Boston 3 Day) | September 22, 2010 at 06:45 AM
Jenne, I'm so glad you have this blog so I can continue to hear your good stories, inspirational words, and hear your insights. You really are an amazing person!
Posted by: Amy Rose | September 22, 2010 at 08:43 AM
That sister of yours is one smart cookie. I only wish I had someone so wise to say those things to me when I went through treatment. And i loved the "To Friends & Family of the Recently Diagnosed" post - oh so true! Thanks Jenne this post was just what I needed!
Posted by: Christina | September 30, 2010 at 07:14 PM
This is the first post of yours that I have read. I'm hooked. I have always tried to stay away from those socially acceptable ways to emptily deal with people around us that are struggling. Yet, I have nothing to give them other than an arm to cry on or an ear to listen to them. I'll continue doing that, but I'll also have some other words from your sister. Thank you very much for sharing!
Peace and Grace,
Keith
Posted by: Keithparker.wordpress.com | October 03, 2010 at 05:42 PM
Are you trying to tell us that you are a right-wing extremist?
No more hate, no more love. Just be, and everything will make sense. (not)
There once was a time when I blogged about this stuff like crazy. Not many people came to my blogs.
I just saw my comments being removed from some sites. I mean no harm, I'm just… sporadic.
Hey, whats that beeping noise? Where's that smoke coming from?
Posted by: Brandon Kinan | November 25, 2010 at 11:35 PM
Quite interesting to tell about to spent a few miles during the run trying to zero,amazing thing to do,great to share.
Posted by: Dissertation Writing Services | January 02, 2011 at 11:46 PM
Really amazing to read about the amazing what a person can forget,the fats are super and interesting to examine.
Posted by: Dissertation Writing | January 03, 2011 at 12:17 AM
One day at chemo, my friend looked up at me, tubes attached to the port in her chest, a rare expression of pure frustration on her face, and she said, "You know what cliche has to be the worst?"
I shook my head.
"God only gives you what you can handle," she said with a snort and an eye roll.
I nodded my head. Yes, that is stupid. And hurtful. And it makes God out to be really uncool, heaping crap on some of us and trying to make it out to be some kind of blessing. I nodded my head again.
Then my friend said, "I know I can handle this. I just don't really feel like it today."
I fought every urge in my body to turn my head away from her just then so she wouldn't see the huge tears in my eyes. I nodded once more instead.
She kept going against ovarian cancer for nine years. Tomorrow is the anniversary of her death. How serendipitous that I found your blog today.
Thanks for this post. It reminded me (once again) of how lucky I am to have had such a remarkable friend.
Posted by: Shannon Alexander | January 07, 2011 at 04:55 PM